


The Wolf's Frey

by mylovelylions



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Gods, Original Character(s), Post-War, Protective Robb Stark, Robb Stark is King in the North, Romance, Sex, Smut, To Read, powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 85,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylovelylions/pseuds/mylovelylions
Summary: What would have happened if Robb Stark had kept his promise at the Twins? Robb/OC
Relationships: Robb Stark & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One: Ravens and Wolves_

They were shooting down our ravens.

"They don't trust us," my father hissed, his milky eyes running over the rivers and bridges that separated the Starks from the Frey's. His fingers bit through the folds of Joyeuse's skirt, causing her to jerk forward a bit as my father snarled like an old, wounded dog.

Pity mixed strongly with disgust as I watched my father's bony fingers pinch my new mother's rump. My eyes drifted along her average build, up to her average face with its solemn expression of indifference firmly cemented. At sixteen, I came in at being one years older than her.

A true accomplishment.

"Forgive me…" my eldest brother, Stevron murmured, hesitantly stepping forward from the throng of sons that had gathered around my father on the balcony. "But haven't we been trying to send raven's through to King's Landing since they arrived?"

My father's hand flew out, sending Stevron's head whipping to the side and my other brothers to twitch in meek acknowledgment. "Do I look like an imbecile? Do you think I need you to question my actions, you impudent little shit? WE ARE FREY'S! We have held this bridge for 600 years and I will be damned if I have some little pretty boy dressed in his father's armor come and dance across my bridge like it's his fucking nameday!"

Stevron's cheek was going purple, a small cut glistening red in the setting sun.

"Milady?" Gwenyth, the maid I was working with looked up at me curiously, her fingers still clutching at the damp rag in her hands as she waited for me to continue my thought. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my head. Joyeuse was but fifteen and had come from the fields. She didn't know to to run a household and my other sisters thought it beneath them. The job had fallen to me.

"Bring more candles into the halls and set the torches and lamps lining the bridges ablaze before night," I instructed, gathering my skirts as I headed swiftly across the great hall toward my brother. "I want the Starks to know that they can be watched even in the dark."

"Milady-" I held up a hand as I passed by the other servants, silencing them as they hurried toward me with furrowed brows. We were preparing for the arrival of a Great House and I seemed to be the only one willing to accommodate him. Agitated, my nose twitched as I stepped onto the raised landing that led out to the balcony.

"Willa," Stevron whispered, his voice cracking as his eyes flicked warily from our father to me and then back again and I gently dabbed away the blood and then flicked a finger at a serving girl.

"Ointment," I murmured, moving on to tip his head this way and that as the girl scurried away.

"Ah, Willa," my father sighed, his jaw working although his eyes never left the shore just beyond our bridges. I could see them gathered there - a mass of darkness and hunger crouching at our gates. There was nothing to hide them - no forest to shadow their approach only brush and grass and the slight slope that brought the earth to kiss water. My father's eyes snapped as the light from the setting sun caught them. "You aren't as dull as these buffoons - what do you think of the Starks?"

My jaw worked, my eyes flicking around the suddenly tense faces of my brothers. When we had been little, I had felt sorry for them. I had pitied them because my father had never shown me and my other full blooded brother and sister the spite that he had given my other siblings. This right was given to me by blood alone. Out of eight wives my father had only loved one. My eyes wandered to the groping hand that my father still had on Joyeuse's rump. Or at least he loved her to the full extent of what he thought the emotion warranted.

"Willa?" My father barked, his brows tipping down slightly.

I mulled over my answer for a moment, taking the time to rub the ointment that a serving girl had come back with across my brother's jaw and cheek. "I think that he is a Stark and he has won the support of a great many men to his cause."

At this, my father scoffed.

"And also that we are pledged to his mother's house," I continued on, my eyes narrowing as I screwed the ointment shut and placed it into the waiting hand of a servant. I turned fully to face my father, clasping my hands in front of me. My mind worked tiredly. "He needs us, father. Our Crossing is the only way to and from the South and the North."

"My bridge is not a play toy-" My father suddenly roared, a vein in his head pulsing as he raged, his bony fist slamming down into the rock of the balcony. I watched him, my exhaustion only growing at his prickly nature.

"We will demand payment," I cut him off, lowering my head demurely as his eyes snapped to me, obviously flabbergasted at my impudence at interrupting him. "We have always asked for payment and received just that. I'm sure that Lord Stark is… more _perceptive_ than most at the moment... Maybe even desperate."

The last bit was added almost as an afterthought but oddly enough it seemed to have the most impact.

For a moment, there was silence. Distantly, I heard the waters of the River Trident slap against the stones of The Twins. Then my father's shrill laugh filled the halls, his head tossing back as he howled.

"Just like your mother," he chortled, patting my cheek lightly as he turned to hobble to his own throne in the center of the great hall.

"Father," one of my brothers said helplessly as the whole mass of men filed past me, some shooting me thankful glances and others filled with out and out hostility. My eyes caught the familiar golden brown of my brother's, a silent conversation passing between us as he walked slowly past. Briefly, his fingers touched mine, an ash brown curl falling into his eyes before he was joining the rest of our brothers where they were gathered around our father.

My brother and I were eerily alike, both in manner and in appearance. When we were children many of the maids and others had said that we were twins since we were only a year at the most apart. Corlin and Willa - both born to the same noblewoman and both with the same quiet authority to their names. I turned, staring across the great hall as I watched my brother's slim shoulders flex beneath the thick wool of his coat. When we had been little, he had been pushed around for looking so frail; his eyes too big and his voice too soft when speaking to anyone but me. Now, it seemed to be what everyone liked most about him.

The women of the house and even the men had long since said that we should have been married off. What did a good figure give a girl like myself, I mused, turning to the balcony once more and catching the clean breeze from the lake below.

When we were smaller, my brother and I had been more than willing to indulge in fantasies. Children with the love of parents but little of their attention are very good at such things. We would build forts and hide in the stables, slip along the walls of the keep to the rocks that reached to the river below. We pretended that we were ship wrecked. We pretended that our mother and father were looking for us and we must - _we must_ get to them.

The only way would be to cross the bridge.

" _Everyone pays the toll," Colin would whisper to me, his face shadowed as we hid beneath the steps of the watchguards tower. Our feet, bare and frozen scraped along the dirty, straw covered stones as we shuffled to get a look of the endless bridge ahead of us. We could see it just out the window, the stone glistening off the bridge like it was straining, sweating under the effort of standing for so long. Colin would grab my face, his eyes wide even as I wrinkled my nose, trying to tug away his grimy fingers._

" _Frey's don't pay," I hissed, my small fingers curling around his wrists as I glared up at him. "Daddy says we're the one's who ask for the toll."_

_Back then, I had assumed that that made us better than others._

" _Bird brain," he would hissed right back, flicking my forehead and causing me to lash out childishly with an angry kick to his shins. I had always hated it when he called me that. It was hypocritical since all our siblings called him that too. I hated it because it reminded me that far from being tame and soft like Freya's, or silky like Roslin's, our hair was matted, coarse like the mane of horses and a kind of mahogany brown that was anything but unique. Our other siblings said that birds could nest in it, it was so thick and messy. "Stupid! You have to pay the price too!"_

_I would huff, my face going red as I glared at him. But eventually I would always concede. Straightening, I dropped my crossed arms and tried my best to stare down the bridge of my nose at my brother like the Septa had taught me. "I shall give what every maiden gives - her love."_

_Colin snorted, his eyes dubious as they swept over me. "You're too ugly for anyone to want that."_

_I raged, my cheeks flushing as the freckles there popped out angrily. I responded violently to all things that usually had to do with my brother. Even love. Punching him in the arm, I sneered, my button nose that I had always despised and my chubby cheeks wrinkling and inflating like I was a balloon being puffed up. "Love is blind, bird brain!"_

" _Not for men it isn't," Colin snapped back. "And you're uglier than a pile of rocks!"_

_I shrieked, wailing like a banshee as I leapt after him, his feet plodding through the puddles of rain as he sprinted for the keep._

He had been right. Men did not love like women. They would take the gardener's daughter or the wrench in the tavern if she had a pretty face. I was under no illusions.

My eyes narrowed on the distant flicker of Robb Stark's banners. I scoffed, shaking my head as I turned to attend a maid that had been hovering nervously by me with a list of meals for the upcoming week. I had heard tales of what this Stark could do. My mind flashed to Roslin's words just that morning, her eyes feverish as she recounted a tale that one of her maids had let slip. She had said that there was word of Lord Stark's wandering hands.

But most liked to talk. They also said that he ate the hearts of those that wronged him. Whether his hands wandered or not was none of my concern.

"The Stark's meal?" the maid blinked up at me, her eyes questioning as I nodded.

"There will be a feast if he is to make a bargain with my father," I murmured, quickly writing down a list of the courses.

"Desperation!" My father was howling, his teeth yellowed and wobbling in their gums evident as he cackled, slamming his fist against the armrest of his throne. "Desperation makes Kings into beggars. And far from being a King, we're getting a boy. Gertard, bring me my daughters! We're going to be celebrating a wedding!"

The quil in my hand snapped, ink splattering along my dress and dribbling down my fingers. Dull shock ran through me. Maybe somewhere deep inside I had been hoping that my sisters and I would not be on the table for bargaining with the Starks. I had been foolish. Gritting my teeth, I turned to catch sight of the Stark family banner whipping through the wind. No, I wasn't under any illusions now. Robb Stark would be wed to one of my sisters.

My brother's eyes caught mine from across the room, his lips tight as he jerked his head slightly.

Robb Stark would bed one of my sisters. I took a breath. Or myself. There was a chance - if a slim one - that out of the women that he could choose, he would choose me. The thought of having a man - any man that had lain openly with another, who had allowed others to know that he had given his heart - lay with me was physically repulsive.

At all costs, I would need to avoid it.


	2. We Stand Together

_Chapter Two: We Stand Together_

The first thing that a Frey is taught - male or female alike - is our words. _We stand together_. We speak it every day. When I was still being tutored, the Septa would make me stand and say it over and over again until my voice would go hoarse and my sisters would be nodding off.

My father had always been of a more honest constitute.

" _I would sooner stand with my cock out for all the lions, wolves and stags to nibble at than with any of you!" I had been nine, barely able to sit at the table without a stepping stool to get into my chair. At the time, our family from the North had come to our halls and our father had set us up at the main table like pies ready for the market. It was painfully apparent that he wanted one, if not all of us to be married off that very night._

_It had been the first time that I had seen the great hall decorated so tastefully, our current mother taking a torturous amount of time instructing the maids. The long rows of oak tables gleamed, our house colors of blue and gray displayed artfully through the table clothes set daintily along the wood. The walls which were usually bare and cold were gleaming with candlelight and hung heavily with our banners - twin towers of blue set off against a grey background and lined in silver and gold threading. The stone walls were swept and mopped until they looked clean enough to walk barefoot across without collecting a single speck of dirt._

_And above it all were the dias reserved for my family and the Lords and Ladies important enough to sit with us._

_The raised platform took up the whole front wall and swept around to hug the benches below in a warm sort of embrace. Only the Frey's had such a main table. It wasn't a fact that I had known back then but now it was all too apparent. In a way, these types of facts made our mockery that much more noticeable. My family was so convoluted and mixed that it was needed a main table to fit. From bastards to blue bloods, Walder Frey displayed us like stuffed animals to be picked from and admired. In some ways, I suppose such unashamed showmanship was refreshing in a world filled with masks._

_My father had been so deep into his cup that the maids had begun to tear up whenever they were ordered to serve him - their clothes ruffled from his constant assaults. Blithely, he raised his cup and grinned down at the hall filled with people. "Do you think that because you came from my cock, I would raise my sword for you worms?"_

_My ears peeked at this, a blush rising to burn my cheeks and neck even though I didn't quite know why. Perhaps it was the way that the halls had gone silent, the tension creeping from the room and seeming to infuse in the walls. Sitting beside my father, I saw Stevron's eyes widen, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed in discomfort. Beside me, Walda twitched, her round, chubby cheeks going a ruby color as she straightened in her seat._

_The candles flickered, making the shadows in our great hall seem even darker. Looking back, I remember feeling like a prisoner, shackled to the rickety wooden chair that Walda had helped me scramble onto. Instead of the raised dais making me feel tall and powerful, it suddenly felt more like I was on display, the eyes of our distant kin and subjects suddenly peaked with interest. The high ceiling, echoed with my father's barking laughter._

" _Survival," my father slurred, swaying forward and then back as he sent his plate skittering to the edge and then shattering to the floor. I didn't flinch. I didn't look away from the lukewarm soup that was slowly chilling in front of me. "Do you think anyone else in this horrid hell is doing anything other than that? Do you think they live for anything greater than simple survival?"_

_When I was nine, I had believed that such things existed. I believed in fairytales and knights. I believed that princesses found their princes and they were both charming and beautiful and filled with so much love for each other that it made the world beautiful too. That was why I couldn't take it anymore. That was why I stood up, my chair shrieking and then falling with a clatter as I got up and stormed over to my father._

" _You're wrong!" I had shrieked, my finger jabbing to point at my father even as he wobbled around to see me, looking similar to a cat I had once seen trying to regain it's balance. Walda's arms caught me, her hold painful as I wrenched against it. "There are princes who are kind and kings who are noble! They fight for things! They do!"_

_No one spoke._

" _Willa, you need to stop this," Walda whispered to me, her voice hot against my ear as I grappled with her hands, trying to get them to release me._

" _Tell me, Willa Child," my father drawled, leaning back in his high seat with a tip of his brows, obviously goading me. "What do these noble men fight for?"_

" _Love!" It was spat, like a curse from my lips. "They do it for love!"_

_Someone coughed in the great hall. I held my father's gaze, desperately trying to hold my tongue as an irrational kind of anger pumped through me, searing my veins. I wanted him to understand. I wanted him to tell me I was right. There was more coughing._

" _Oh, Willa," Walda whispered against my ear and I blinked as I felt her shake as she set me down._

_And that's when I heard it. They weren't coughing. All of them - my eyes burned as I stared down at the people below me - they were all shaking with laughter. It rose and swelled until it muffled my own embarrassment, wrapping around me like a thick blanket._

_I felt foolish. I felt utterly humiliated. Like a child that knew nothing._

" _LOVE!" My father roared, howling with laughter as his cup went spilling onto the floor. Across the room, my brother's eyes met mine, obvious pity in them. "Love of a good pussy to sink his cock into!"_

_My mind went numb, my face burning as tears threatened to spill over. Still roaring, my father grabbed onto the nearest girl and yanked her onto his lap, his mouth already seeking out hers in a sloppy attempt at foreplay._

_Yes. Love, my mind whispered brokenly, the word seeming somehow very empty as I watched my father's fingers turn into talons as he grappled to raise the girl's skirt._

That night I had earned a new nickname from my sisters. Princess, they would whisper snidely to me over our needlework. Every time they said it, it tore a bit more at the girl inside of me. Whatever bit of respect they had had for me was ripped away in one moment and with it was taken something that I didn't know could be lost.

I never spoke of princes or honor again. At dinners, when my father would talk of survival or the latest news of knights and glory, his eyes flicking to me in an obvious challenge, I would keep my mouth shut. Frey's are not born to such frivolous things. While other houses rose to power through strength and valor and hard work, Frey's rose through pure, cold cunning. We waited. While others fought and bled and died, our ancestor had looked to the maps. Instead of fighting for land, we took water. Through stone and gates, we learned how to conquer both the North and the South.

 _We stand together._ More than our house, I had learned that that motto came from our bridges. Without the twins, we would have nothing. No one came without begging our leave - and paying our price.

* * *

"He's won," my brother Gavin said dully, staring down at the paper with an almost blank expression. His eyes flicked up to my father who looked just as enthused at the news. "Again."

"Well, he's a persistent little shit isn't he?" my father said gruffly, Joyeuse had grown unusually relaxed as she stood demurely by his throne. I kept my eyes firmly on the book in my lap, my muscles tensing as I went rigid on the bench at the balcony.

Clean, river air blew crisply into the hall that my brothers and father kept. They had been using it more often than not of late. It was precisely why I was able to get away with being so near them when they spoke of the Stark boy. With every letter of his savagery and utter victory, a new wash of interest diverted their attention.

"They say that he feasts on the flesh of the slain," my youngest brother piped up, his seat far in the back. Snickers bounced off of the stone walls before my father's harsh gaze swept through like a winter's breeze to silence them.

"He very well might," my father hissed, his bony fingers tensing around the armrests.

No one spoke.

He had become more prone to these random outbursts, his eyes always drifting into distant thoughts as he receded into his own world. For the first time, I saw my father unnerved. He thought about the Stark boy. When we received ravens, he would jump at them like a hungry, rabid dog.

And with my father's interest, through a way that wasn't entirely intentional, I began to grow interested. My mind would tick around the new information that was brought in on each swoop of dark wings.

Eddard Stark had been executed by the new boy-king. Robb Stark was surely to collapse under this - his army disappearing. _Wrong_. The Kingslayer had been captured at the Battle of the Whispering Woods. More lords took up the cry and joined Robb Stark's cause. Winterfell, home to the Starks was lost, two of Robb Stark's brothers killed in the massacre. Surely, he would fall now.

He won four more victories.

It was numbing to imagine such a man. A man who could face such fear and still lunge forward and win. Like a giant wolf crouching over the land, Lord Stark's teeth dug into the Lannister armies on all sides. "The Young Wolf," they call him. The King in the North, more still began to say.

"Have I slipped into a fantasy world where children win wars?" I heard my father whisper to himself one day, his head tipped to the side as a letter fluttered to the ground.

Tentatively, one of my brothers stepped forward to retreive it. Without knowing it, my head had tipped up, my attention fully on the scene before me. Across the room, my brother turned slightly, his eyes catching mine from the corners.

"They've won," my brother murmured numbly, gesturing to the paper.

I didn't even realize that my book had slipped from my fingers, it's solid mass slamming to the ground so forcefully that every head snapped in my direction. My insides felt like they were made of chilled metal. It had been only two years since he had come to our doors and asked for our bridge.

"Girl!" I flinched, blinking rapidly at the roar of my father as I came back to myself. "What are you doing in here? Do you think these conversations for the ears of females?"

Briefly my eyes flicked to Joyeuse but I kept my mouth shut, standing shakily and dipping a quick curtsy before hurrying from the hall.

The Frey's had never moved from our spot. We were river people through and through - walking the thin road between the North and the South like children trying to balance on the rails of balconies. It was easy to watch the world go by from there. In fact, it had grown so comfortable to live that way that it was more than disconcerting to be intrigued by the petty squabbles of the rest of the world.

That was why it shook me so much to actually feel joy at the Stark boy's victories. The war was ending and it was sickening for me to realize that I actually enjoyed that idea.

* * *

"You can't wear that to greet the King!" Roslin exclaimed, looking down in dismay at my plain, brown dress and simple shoes. The best that I had done was clean myself and brush out my wild mess of hair. Her pretty green eyes flicked around my room in dismay as she hurried over to my closet to riffle around. "Father says we must look our best!"

It was sad to say that I ranked my sisters on outward appearance but when you had as many as I did, sometimes ranking was the only way to keep their names straight. Roslin was within the top of our ranks when it came to outward beauty. She had full lips and wide, forest green eyes that made her seem younger and more innocent than she actually was. Her hair, although thin was a beautiful brown that swept like silk over her shoulders.

"I'm sure our Young Wolf has seen far worse than a woman in a simple dress," I murmured, flinching as the brush in my hands ran across a particularly dense knot in my hair.

"Don't call him that!" Roslin whispered harshly, her head peeking out from behind the wardrobe doors for a moment as she gave me a quick glare before she went back to her mission.

I didn't reply. Roslin may have been meeker than a rabbit but she was more of a lady than I could ever be. In any matter, she would more than likely be the woman that the Young Wolf picked to be his bride.

The thought still shook me and I set down my brush, gulping down a breath as I stared down at the light wood of my vanity. There had been so many rumors of the wolf's affair with a healer maiden that I had assumed… My eyes turned to stare blindly back at myself in the wavering surface of my mirror. Perhaps there was still a part of me that believed in fairy tales. For a moment - when Lady Stark had walked through our halls and asked for our ascent to go through the Twins, I had thought that she would refuse on behalf of her son. Maybe if he had been here, she would have.

But he wasn't. And now Arya Stark had been wed off and so had Lord Stark. All that was left was the choosing and then the wedding.

"Do you ever think we're just pieces in a horrid, horrid game?"

Roslin's eyes met mine in the mirror, her brows furrowing for a moment as a confused smile curled her lips. "I don't understand what you mean, Willa."

I forced a smile, my nails digging into the wood of the vanity. "Never you mind, Roslin. I'll change - you go attend to the twins and bring them back so that we can fix their hair along with Shirei."

Disquiet settled over my sister's face as she straightened. "You don't think the Wolf will choose one of them, do you?"

Something inside me coiled painfully, nasou settling along the pit of my stomach as I forced my face to stay blank. If Roslin saw the fear in my face then she would be terrified before we even dined with Lord Stark. But there was always a chance that he would take one of them. My throat dried. Even the chance that he would take both of the twins if our father offered them.

Nodding curtly, Roslin hurried out of my room with a hum. She had always been one of the few of my sisters that wanted to see past the walls of the Twins. If anything, this marriage would allow her to do just that.

Swiftly, I got up and made my way to the wardrobe sitting just in front of my bed. All of the rooms of the Twins always seemed to be too small, the beds too large for the little amount of space and the wardrobes seeming to burst with an excess of corsets and petticoats. It was oppressive and it rarely made me feel that there was any room for me to breath but perhaps that was just the effect the keep had on everyone. My eyes drifted to the windows sitting just beside my vanity on the other side of the room. At the moment, the sun was setting, making the top of the river flash a startling array of oranges and reds. Like a bowl filled with embers about to catch fire.

Shaking myself, I quickly pulled out my best dress, staring down at the thick, green material before sighing and setting it on my bed. I had seen enough of the people from both the North and South to know that my dress would have probably been what the high ladies wore when they wanted to go a simpler route.

Far from light, it was made of a thick, pine wool with dark fur line the swooping neckline that would leave my shoulders bare. Gold trim banded my sleeves and ran along the front of my skirt allowing a triangle of deep orange to show through. I sighed, tugging absently at the hem before I went to find a serving woman to help me.

"Willa, you're being unfair!" Roslin exclaimed as she entered the room just as my maid was clipping on the the golden belt to hang lowly around my hips. Her face fell into a pout as she eyed me, the twins and Sherei making their way quietly into my room. "He's not even going to look at the rest of us if you wear that. Put the brown one back on."

My head throbbed dully as I eyed my younger sister, sparing a short smile and a thankful nod to my maid before she hurried away. "I think you're exaggerating and frankly being a little foolish. If anything he will immediately go to you or Freya."

The truth was that my hair was too coarse and unruly - making me look like I had glued tufts of horsehair onto my skull - and my face which was round and open was too childish looking. It didn't help that I still had a splatter of freckles that colored my face and that I had a button nose which twitch liked a rabbit when I was agitated or lying. The best compliment that I had ever gotten had come from my eldest brother when he had said that I looked like a flower or some kind of lost animal like a bunny or kitten.

Even then I was more tempted to view it as an insult. Who wanted some frail lost animal for a wife? Or even worse, a useless flower easily trampled on and prone to wilting in little time at all.

No, my sisters were built more for what men wanted. Roslin was meek enough looking that she still had an air of innocence but still sensual enough to grab the attention of men.

Roslin's cheeks flushed, her lips tipping up as she took the compliment. I turned my attention to the three other girls who were watching the exchange quietly. The twins were only a year older than Sherei who came in at nine and although they had already bled it had only been a month before. I wouldn't have them sold off like cattle. Not yet.

"Father intends for them to be at the feast," my sister whispered quietly, stepping forward to run a hand over Sherei's hair, her eyes darkening with worry. "I've heard that the Starks are a noble family. They stick to their honor."

"They say Lord Stark can turn into a wolf when he wants," Sherei suddenly spoke up, her dark eyes running over us nervously. Beside her, the twins stilled. Her eyes caught mine. "I don't want to marry a beast."

"He won't pick us will he?" The twins questioned together, their hands searching each other out.

Sudden fear clogged my throat as I stared down at them. The truth - horrible and repulsive as it was - was that I didn't know what the Young Wolf would do. I knew what our father would do. I knew what most of the drooling dogs that would be attending tonight would do. Weakly, I forced a smile, shaking my head.

"No - no." My nose twitched uncertainly, my fingers knotting together. Gallantly, I straightened, going over to my vanity to pick up a brush and some pins. "But just because he will not pick you does not mean that we can't look our best."

They knew I doubted my own words. I could see it in the way that they all paled, even Roslin. But Frey's didn't speak of such things. Doubts were completely useless unless they were being put to good use in warfare and cunning.

* * *

"Willa! Willa, I know you hear me!" Sighing, I rubbed a hand over my eyes and stopped to face my brother. Eyes wild, he gave me a thin stare as he trotted up to me.

"Shouldn't you be in the great hall?" I asked to his obvious annoyance. The stone halls roared with the laughter spilling from the giant dining area, the candles flickering along their holders.

Night had already fallen and with it, the Stark army had come. From my window, I had seen their approach across the bridge of my family, the flames from the lamps running along the crossing catching the glint of their thick armor and horses. My eyes were intent on the front of the procession, a hulking figure sitting stiffly on his horse. Occasionally, the flames would catch bits of him. A gloved hand here. A teasing flicker of auburn hair. A whispered glimpse of the fur blanketing his shoulders. And then, curiously the shadow of a large animal roaming beside his mount, it's coat glinting a frosty white even in the shadows. But then the light would dance away like even it was afraid to fully light the figure of the Wolf of the North.

The gates had moaned as they opened wide for the Starks, men scuttling this way and that as the army was welcomed into our halls. And just like that the daughters of Frey had been called down.

Many things could be said about my father but no one would ever say that he didn't have flare. It was almost suspicious how much thought he had put into our appearance. Only a few minutes into the meal, the great doors would swing open and then one by one we would all be introduced. I was beginning to think that he held a certain soft spot for the King of the North.

"Why are you wearing _that_?" Corlin questioned, his nose wrinkling as he stared down at the sweeping material of my dress. Gasping, he suddenly caught sight of the swooping neckline and off the shoulder design. "Are you insane, Willa? Have you gone from your senses complete - Cover yourself, sister!"

"Father told us to dress accordingly to greet our new King," I said patiently, trying not to roll my eyes heavenward as he fluttered about, trying to tug up the dress.

"It looks like you want to do more than greet him," Corlin muttered darkly and I swatted at him.

"He will pick another, brother," I snarled, glaring at him.

"Remember who he is." Something in Corlin's tone caught my attention, his face suddenly going somber enough for my irritation to be completely erased. "He's killed more men than you have seen in these walls, Willa. His hands are soaked in the blood of millions. And I daresay that he won't give up the color so easily. His banners should be dyed red."

A chill slid across my spine, freezing my skin for a moment as I stared at my brother. He was right. Robb Stark was a wolf through and through. He killed to survive. Stiffly, I nodded, a silent agreement passing between my brother and I as he gently touched my elbow.

"And don't be fooled by his looks," Corlin snapped as he turned, breaking the moment. Swiftly, he moved down the hall to enter through a hidden door and into the great hall.

Shaking my head, I hurried to the great hall's doors, finding that all of my sisters were already gathered there. Roslin was murmuring reflexively to herself, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her as she stared up at the massive doors in front of her. She didn't so much as look up as I approached.

"I thought you would miss the feast," Walda, my portly well-natured older sister said as I came to stand beside her. "You know father ordered for the honey bread and red wine peach tart, right? Be a shame to miss something like that."

I refrained from telling her that I had in fact ordered the kitchen to make that, knowing full well that Walda would be the first to notice and appreciate it. Although already betrothed to Roose Bolton, she would be leaving when he was fully situated with his son and castle. In the past months, it had grown increasingly more apparent that the Bolton family was under some sort of strain. In fact, it looked as if they were to collapse. It was a shame that Walda had to be carted off to such a family. That was more than partially why I had decided to add in some of her favorite desserts.

"Not every feast is meant to be a celebration to stuff your face, you pig." My nails dug into my palms as I turned at the familiar, shrill voice of Derwa. Ordinary would be the best word to describe Derwa although the way that she acted suggested that she fullwell thought that she was far from it. Brown hair, brown eyes and an expression that could curdle milk, she had chased after many of the servants in the Twins. Sometimes I wondered if she wasn't so close to being like our father that it would get her into trouble. Her smile turned sickly sweet as she turned to me. "Princess."

"Derwa," I greeted back, smoothing my expression to cool indifference. Derwa got bored easily so the best course of action was ignorance.

"Do you always have to be so sour, Derwa?" Walda questioned, seemingly saddened by the thought. "A King is in our halls waiting to take one of us as his next bride and you can't even muster a genuine smile."

"When he takes my hand in marriage, I'll smile," she dismissed, before turning her full attention on me. "Father says that you'll be after Sherei. The end of the line."

My brows furrowed. That seemed like an odd request. Suspicion slithered through me. "Why?"

"Who knows?" Derwa snarled, pushing me toward the back of the line with a glare. "Perhaps he wants to showcase his prize child."

I blushed, flinching as a few of my other sisters snickered. Derwa gave me a smirk, flicking her fingers in a childish wave. "Bye - bye, _princess_."

There was nothing more to be said. The doors to the great halls were already sliding open and my sisters were shuffling forward. I would have to go to the back of the line or make a scene. And if I were being honest with myself, I had no place to disregard one of my father's direct orders. Even if it did draw attention to me since all of the daughters and granddaughters had been lined up eldest to youngest.

"Willa," Sherei greeted me, hope lighting her eyes which were a dull brown before she caught sight of me. Her gaze flicked forward briefly, her brows creasing in confusion. "What are you doing back here?"

"I wanted to see you," I lied, placing a hand on the small of her back and straightening as the throng of women began to slither forward into the hall.

Already the scent of buttered pastries stuffed with meat and smoked honey ham drifted out to tease the air, the flicker of candles and lamps that lighted the great hall spilling out to wash our feet in light. The great hall was much like it had been when I was nine, with it's circling dias and rows of oak benches. Arched windows hung open to let clean air roll into the hall, giving brief glimpses of the darkness outside.

"Won't you be in trouble?" Sherei whispered anxiously, her thumbs working at each other as we made our way slowly down the center aisle.

Men, big and brooding and still sweaty from the ride here, turned to watch us on all sides. Occasionally, I would see the familiar face of a soldier from the Twins but mostly our people had stayed away, leaving the feast for the Stark men alone. A small part of me wondered if they were afraid. We had neither helped nor hindered either side in the war. Would some view that as cowardice?

My grip on Sherei tightened and I battled my instincts down until my face was as serene as it would get. Up ahead, I heard the familiar drone of my father's voice as he announced girl after girl.

"I won't get myself into trouble. I promise," I breathed, leaning down briefly to push a few strands of hair out of her face. I had worked her hair into a braid, wanting to draw attention more to her age than anything else. Letting out a shaky breath, I gave her my best smile and turned my attention back to the front.

"And this is my daughter Walda - not that much to look at but I assure you that most who lack in beauty find other ways to make up for it." A few in the hall burst into laughter entirely at my sister's expense and I caught sight of her scurrying away and up to her proper seat at the dias.

Gritting my teeth, I resisted the urge to lean around the few sisters and nieces that I had left to properly see the main table. Unruly hair seemed to run in the Frey family because at that moment three of my sister's tangled curls were completely obscuring my vision of the main table. All I could see was a dour looking man with thinning brunnette hair and a strong, square jaw. I assumed that he was a Tully by the scaled armor that he wore. And then on his other side was a quiet looking woman with auburn hair and striking blue eyes. Everything about her screamed a serene sort of elegance like how I supposed you would feel when standing beneath the shade of a great willow.

Seated on the other side, I saw the attentive expression of my eldest brother, Stevron as he leaned closer to my father and the King, I supposed. However besides that, I could not see a single hair of what was going on. My eyes drifted to the ground as I absently listened to what my father was saying, diligently keeping a calming hand on Sherei's back as we made our way slowly forward.

"My granddaughter…" There was a pained silence. "Wertha?"

My eyes flicked up as one of my brothers, Marie's father coughed, shifting in his seat in agitation as Marie's back went stiff. There were only the twins left in front of Sherei and I now I could clearly see the almost confused expression on my father's face. I shook my head slightly, trying to be discreet as I saw Lord Tully's brow tip up.

"Waldra?" He took a wild jab again and Marie coughed, jerking her head in a small shake. My father's brows knit further together as he leaned forward. "Waldina?"

"I'm Marie," she finally burst, raising her head as she met the King's gaze. I blinked. The King. I had been so busy thinking of my father that I hadn't even realized that he was there.

He was handsome.

Even in the back of my mind that word seemed wrong. Beneath a heavy brow, his eyes shone a striking stormy blue and his auburn hair coiled this way and that in a tidal wave of curls that tickled his nape and ears. A beard and moustache darkened a strong jaw.

He didn't look like a man that had slaughtered the Lannisters one after another.

"And this is my youngest, Sherei." I blinked, taken aback for a moment as I realized that I was fully staring at him. Beside me, Sherei's tiny shoulders quivered and I had the sudden urge to grab her hand and make a dash for the nearest horse. Something about this man scared me to the Seven Hells. There was an unpredictable nature to his gaze which I could feel boring into the side of my skull at that very moment.

But I was a Frey and I was a woman at that. It was one thing to disobey orders. It was completely different to disobey a King.

"Willa," Sherei whispered fearfully and I glanced up in time to see my father's agitation growing, anxiety and fear tightening my heart.

"Listen to me," I murmured, kneeling beside her and grabbing her face so that all she could see was me. I gave her a strained smile. "You see that man up there?"

Her eyes flicked up and from the corner of my vision I saw the King of the North shift, his head tipping to the side in interest. I gulped, licking my lips. She nodded.

"There are a great many evils in this world, Sherei but he isn't one of them." I don't know why I said it. Perhaps it was a prayer. Perhaps I wanted to believe it as well. Sherei's eyes unclouded a bit and I smiled again, rubbing her arms. "Good."

"Get up here, girl!" Our father roared and I flinched, kissing her cheek gently before I pushed her forward, anxiety clawing at my heart.

He didn't look like the type to take girls as wives. But… I bit at my lip, watching warily as Sherei stepped forward and gave a small, awkward curtsy. Sitting straighter, Lady Stark gave her an encouraging smile and I suddenly remembered that she had two daughters of her own. Unwanted, my eyes drifted to the imposing figure of Robb Stark and I flushed as I caught his stare.

"As I was saying," my father continued on and I had the urge to leap forward and shoo Sherei to a safe spot at the table with our sisters as King Stark's eyes cut from mine to run over her. "She is my youngest. She hasn't even bled yet."

Deep horror cut through me as Sherei's ears went red and my nails bit into my palms. The hall had gone tense at the mention of her age, Robb's eyes flashing with something I couldn't particularly decypher. With one deft wave of his hand, Sherei went scampering over to my other sisters and stiffly, I moved forward.

The weight of a hundred gazes hit me like a boulder, my shoulders tensing as silence fell heavily over the hall. The forceful gaze of the Young Wolf felt like the heaviest one of them all, my face heating as I dipped into a deep curtsy. It irritated me to no end that he was having this effect on me.

"And this is one of my other girls, Willa." There was something about my father's voice that made me want to glance up - a curious tone that I couldn't quite snag onto. But I kept my eyes on the ground. "Although I don't know why she decided to place herself after my youngest."

My shoulders tensed, shock and bewilderment shocking through me. _Derwa_ , my mind hissed angrily, glaring at her from the corner of my eyes as I saw her snickering. A few of my other sisters seemed to be receiving just as much amusement from the whole event as the hall was filled with light giggles.

Anger rose heavily inside of me as I straightened, meeting my father's eyes with a tip of my chin. "I'm sorry, father. Derwa was worried that Sherei's beauty might overshadow hers so she asked if I might be willing to trade positions with her. I didn't realize that she had chosen to stand all the way in the back."

All laughter stopped and I saw Lady Starks brows tip up as she gave my sisters an indulgent smile. Apparently, our side stepping ways of jabbing at each other were very ill hidden. The King's expression didn't change although his eyes swirled in amusement as he glanced to my sisters. Giving Derwa a quick glance, my father smiled and nodded.

"Ah, yes," he murmured before turning fully back to stare at me. "My daughter Willa has just come across her eighteenth nameday." His mouth twisted sourly at my age and my eyes turned quickly back to the floor. The next part was spoken as if he was musing to himself, making me flinch unintentionally. "And still unwed. I don't even believe we've gotten a proposal."

Just like that, the snickers returned. Painfully, I drew in a breath, trying to ignore the fire that was slowly engulfing my face. I could still feel the stare of the King in the North, his eyes drilling into the side of my face.

For a moment, the hall was silent and it took all I had not to let myself droop under the critical attention. Adamantly, I repeated the words that the Septa had taught me like a prayer. _Head up. Spine straight. Hands in front. Don't be cocky, girl. But don't look like you'll be pushed down in the next storm._

"Hhhmmm," my father murmured to himself. Clicking his tongue, he caught my eye and flicked his hand to my sisters. "Are there anymore? Have I finished?"

Dipping into a hurried bow, I firmly avoided King Stark's eyes as I gathered my skirt to make a quick exit.

"What did you tell her?" The words stilled me, shock making me forget myself as I glanced up and became ensnared in the stormy gaze of Robb Stark. I gulped. Interest crinkled his brow as he tipped his head towards my youngest sister, Sherei. "You told her something to get rid of her fear before you came forward. What was it?"

I was obliged to answer it. The way that my father was staring at me, I needed to do just that within the next few seconds or else I would wake to find myself in the river.

But it truly was the worst thing that he could have asked. I gulped, my nose twitching in irritation as I turned. I wanted to lie. I could feel a million of them bubbling to the surface, waiting to be let loose. I could tell him a fanciful one. I could flatter him. He hadn't heard. He wouldn't know.

My eyes caught his and I was tugged underwater. I didn't look away. "I told her that you were not to be feared. That there were many evils in this world and that you were not one of them."

Everything stilled. The familiar sound of silverware halted and I saw my father splutter form the corner of my eyes. On the King's other side, I saw his mother's eyes widen, her hand tighten on the goblet in front of her. But I wasn't looking at him. My full attention was on the man in front of me, his eyes spiked through with shock as he took me. He looked liked like he was confused. And there was something else there. Something that I didn't want to delve too deeply into.

"Your Grace," I said quickly, tearing my eyes away from his with all the force in my being and going into a quick curtsy again.

 _This man was dangerous_ , I thought to myself as I hurried away.


	3. The Feast

His gaze was absolutely piercing.

"Derwa looks like one of those snakes brought by those tricksters." Roslin tapped a finger on the table, turning with a secretive smile to me. "Remember them, sister? Those funny little men with the flutes - those snakes used to come bobbing out of those baskets-"

"I recall, Roslin," I snapped, my voice tense as I felt a trickle of sweat shiver down to dampen my collar. My younger sister blinked, clearly taken aback and for a moment guilt overwhelmed my own discomfort.

But that was quickly overcome as I felt the hot, piercing sensation of eyes running over me. Keeping my gaze down, I caught the slight shift of heavy furs. My father was saying something jovial by the tone and the King was leaning toward him to listen - but - I bit my lip, the fish on my plate staring back up at me with a sprig of rosemary and olives shoved into its mouth.

Once, when I had been very little, my brothers had taken me past the walls and bridges of the Twins and into the forests. Colin hadn't been invited - the week before my older brothers had taunted him to the point of tears. It would be two months before he was let back into their games. The only reason that I had been allowed into their little circle was because they thought it would be amusing to watch me quiver and scream when faced with wild boars and bears that they said roamed through the woods.

It was still a great source of embarrassment to admit that they had been partially correct in their assumption.

My horse had spooked.

She wa a cream beauty, used to the gentle touch of grooms and short rides around the guarded streets of the Twins. Merigold - that had been her name - she had bolted at the first sound of shrieking from the dying boar that my brothers had cornered, circling and chortling like children.

We had ended in a glade, both of us sweating and covered in dirt and leaves. And I had been in tears, my brothers calls distant as I looked around wildly. I had never felt more alone than in that moment, sitting atop Merigold with tufts of her mane clutched desperately in my shaking hands. I had barely even realized that she had begun to limp, dancing on her hooves as she tried to keep pressure off of her left hoof.

I was too distracted by the flash of red that my eyes caught across the glade.

A fox, it's eyes intent on a rabbit just to the left of us. Everything stilled as I watched it crouch, it's shoulders rolling and it's eyes narrowing and fastening onto that helpless, little animal.

It was the first time that I had ever seen the eyes of a predator.

The rest of the story goes much as I suppose people would guess. My brothers found me after I had the unfortunate luck of watching the fox shred that little rabbit into digestible bits. Merigold had been slaughtered in front of me, her shrieks echoing off the stone walls of the Twins as the groom who had brushed her day after day slowly sawed through the thick muscles of her throat. My brothers had each been heavily reprimanded by our father and had refused to speak to me for months.

Robb Stark's eyes reminded me, eerily of that foxes. Except now they were firmly focused upon me and I had the sinking feeling that they were ten times more lethal than a foxes.

"He's been staring at you for a while," Roslin whispered to me with a secretive smile, drawing me out of my reveries and back to the uncomfortable realities of this banquet. Briefly, her eyes flicked past me to where I presumed the Wolf King sat and then quickly back to me, her cheeks heating. "You should not have said what you did, sister. He looks… I do not know. I don't particularly have words for how he looks."

Roslin had never seen animal about to dig its teeth into the neck of prey.

I forced a smile, focusing all of my attention onto my sister as I resisted the urge to glance up and into the penetrating gaze of the King in the North. Was it possible for a gaze to become a living thing - for one to feel it like the touch of fingers?

"There are many things that should not have been said to the Boy King, it seems." The words were said out of extreme agitation. Lord Stark was far from a boy and I was under the sinking impression that every word spoken in his presence was taken into great consideration.

Roslin hissed out a breath, her eyes flicking down the line of our sisters and brothers in fear. "You should be more careful with your words, Willa. At least for tonight."

And with that she went back to her meal, turning a shoulder to me as she talked with our sister on her other side. I had effectively scared off one of my sisters. Thirteen more to go.

"A TOAST!" My father suddenly roared and I resisted the urge to grimace as I heard half of the men in the hall scream in agreement, grabbing the nearest serving wench and hauling her in for a kiss. My lips tightened as I caught my brothers smirk, his cheeks rosy.

Dutifully, I raised my goblet slightly, watching almost against my will from the corner of my eye as the King did the same, his movements slow. At his feet, I saw the sudden flash of movement and stiffened. How had I not seen it before? Maybe it was because of Stark's cloak, the material long and flowing to pool around his chair. Maybe it was simply because I had been too entrapped by - well, by him.

It was a great direwolf, it's eyes just as striking as its masters but of an amber hue struck through with gold. It's fur was thick and soft looking - not that I would ever have the illusion of ever getting within five feet of those vicious canines - the color of the clouds just before it rained, giving way in places for pure white. He was absolutely beautiful. So beautifully terrifying.

"Willa," Roslin hissed, her lips already on the rim of her cup and her eyes snapping with warning. I started. The toast had already been made. Fumbling slightly, I brought the goblet to my lips quickly before anyone would notice.

Someone already had.

My eyes caught his as the bitter taste of old wine hit my tongue, his clear eyes holding a sort of amused consideration that I didn't like. And as I watched, they lit and behind his glass I could see the slight tip of his smirk as he drained the last bit from his goblet. I couldn't help it.

I sent him what I hoped to be a withering glare.

"TO A WARM MEAL AND-" My father's hand shot out and our gaze was immediately broken just as he let out a surprised chuckle. In a common theme, my father was already too deep in his cup to see anything else besides a nice set of titts. He had grabbed onto the nearest thing that he could. Which happened to be a serving girl of only fourteen. Disgust ran warmly through me. "AND A GOOD FUCK!"

Sharply, I waved over another serving girl. I couldn't stop the child from being openly molested by my father but I could stop a fate far worse.

"Find Joyeuse," I whispered sharply to the maid who nodded, her eyes flicking back to watch my main table. I waited until her attention was back on me before continuing. "Tell her that her services are needed at the feast."

My lips thinned as I glanced at the tables lined before us. It seemed that one of the Stark's knights was missing. My stepmother had made it her personal agenda to serve him as much ale as he could handle before delicately extracting herself from my father's side when he had gone to relieve himself. How _kind_ of her.

I gave the serving maid a thin smile, letting the malice and loathing that I felt seep into my voice and eyes. "Tell her that I won't be telling my father of her little... _picnic_ with the King's friends if she gets up here in a timely fashion. She should be in the servant's stairwell. She seems to be most at home there, as of late."

The maid had gone very white at this point, her eyes wide with fright even as she gave a nod and turned to leave with a clumsy curtsy. Just then there was a loud clatter and a bellow of laughter. My fool of a brother had fallen out of his seat and was giggling like a female that had just had her first cup of wine. I rolled my eyes, grasping the serving maid's arm before she left.

"And by the Seven, bring coffee." My eldest brother was sticking his hand up another serving wench's skirt. It was becoming a fucking free-for-all. I gritted my teeth. "A _lot_ of coffee."

"Speaking of fucking," my father roared as the thin maid scuttled away quickly. And there was that confounded burning again. I turned a harsh gaze on Robb Stark, meeting his gaze head on with a sneer. I loathed the man already and it wasn't even a night past meeting. A fine brow tipped up, that usual smirk seeming to grow as he eyed me in an appraising sort of way. "The Stark has a choice to make. Which one of my grand, wonderful daughters will you choose to sink your cock into?"

Everything went very still. Beside me, Roslin gave an excited chirp and I saw Derwa straighten in her seat with an imperious glance in my direction. There was a disgusted sort of tilt to Robb Stark's mouth as he broke eye contact with me, his fingers tightening on the table as his lips thinned, his eyes firmly on my father now who was groping the poor serving girl with viger. He looked rather smug with himself. Like a mangy old cat that had just found milk on a sill. I had never been more revolted by him in my entire life.

Taking a breath, I straightened in my seat, trying to keep all of my hatred and revulsion hidden beneath a indifferent mask. There were many to pick from. He wouldn't pick the one that was so foul as to not receive a single proposal in her whole eighteen years of life.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Joyeuse slip into the hall, adjusting her skirts and looking rather like she had swallowed something particularly foul. I caught her gaze, jerking my head in the direction of father. Men had tournaments and hunts to feel defeated about. By Joyeuse's expression, women had things much more lasting to lose.

Rising slowly from my seat, I moved quietly and quickly to my father's side, pointedly ignoring Stark as those eyes turned on me. Why was he always staring? Why did he always seeming to be calculating?

"Father," I murmured, drawing his attention to me as I gently touched his elbow. Immediately, like a snake recoiling from fire, his hands snapped away from the now silently weeping girl. For a moment, I took her in. She was small even for her age with hair the color of midnight, her blue eyes wide and beseeching. When she realized who I was, that look immediately dissolved into hatred. Had she even had her first bleeding?

"What do you want, girl?" he hissed, drawing my attention slowly back to him. Maybe my reactions were slower than usual. Maybe I was exhausted from eighteen years of having to maneuver through this world like it was filled with mines. But for just a second, I indulged in taking him in - this broken wreck of a man. He had raised a hand to me more times than I could have counted and in an odd, twisted sort of way, I loved him as a daughter should. But in an even more tangled way, I despised every breath that he took. "Speak, you dumb, little thing! I'm sure there must be some reason why you would dare-"

"Your wife," I said dully, stepping aside as I heard Joyeuse's heels clatter across the stone floors. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the serving maid carry in a couple of platters with our best cups, steam rolling up into the air. I gave him a strained smile. "And coffee."

My father stilled for a second, his hand still dangerously close to the girl's inner thigh, tucked under her messy, kitchen skirts. His other, bony, shaking hand was cupping her unimpressive breast. He looked like he was caught with a decision to make. I was obliged to help him before he made the wrong one. Reaching forward, I gently pried his hands away from the girl, smoothing her hair down as I gave her a considering once over. She would have bruises and - I grimaced - there would be marks on her neck - I could see them reddening beneath the layer of slick saliva.

"Willa dear." I glanced up at the sickeningly sweet voice just in time to see a flash of teeth as my stepmother smiled down at me from her perch in my father's lap. "Are you going to stay here all night or return to your proper seat? Maybe we should bring along your sisters to gawk at the new King as well."

Rage reddened my cheeks. Far from spreading my legs and laying down, I was brought up to be the guardian of my husbands house. I had earned my rank. My teeth gnashed together as I stared into the sullen eyes of my stepmother. My father was of noble blood and my mother was descended from royalty - she was a commoner to her very bones and would fuck anything that held some gold.

But she was my mother. Marriage and sex were what brought a female power in this world. It was a bitter concoction to swallow - even more bitter by the thought that I would never be able to use this. I didn't have the kind of disregard for personal pride as Joyeuse did.

Pressing a hand to the serving girl's back, I shooed her to the door before turning back to my father and stepmother with what I hoped to be a serene smile. I tried to ignore the disgusting amount of flesh that I was catching sight of, locking eyes with Joyeuse. "By all means, mother, if you see fit to bring my sister's forward to witness… _this…_ then do so. I assure you that it will be of no conflict to me. Although I doubt that they will find the act any more entertaining than the last few times."

She spluttered. Luckily my father was too engrossed in getting a proper feel for her breasts than to have heard my words. Turning swiftly, I gave a quick curtsy without meeting the gaze of either Lady Stark or His Grace. If that didn't turn his attention from me then I had no clue-

"Do you usually have such a sharp tongue, Lady Frey?" The question was jarring and I blinked as I straightened, abruptly breaking the curtsy. Stormy eyes sparking through with open laughter caught me.

My eyes flicked to Lady Stark who was eyeing me with the same sort of amusement, her face gentle with open interest. I had heard that she had slit the throat of Jaime Lannister herself.

"I've found that most things that aren't sharpened over the years are dull and useless." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and inwardly I cursed myself. One of Robb's brows tipped up. Perhaps Roslin was right. I lowered my gaze. "Your Grace."

"You are quite interesting, Willa Frey." My head snapped up at the soft chuckle that slipped from his lips.

"I'm really not," I hurried to say, desperation and panic now coursing through my veins. That brow tipped up even more at my denial and I gulped.

"Not many have argued with my son since he took the head of Tywin," came a low, homely voice and I glanced to see Lady Stark smiling softly.

"I would hate to see His Grace so blatantly misled," I lied dully and the Lady laughed gleefully.

"I have thanks to give you," Lord Stark said and I was caught off guard by the sudden dashing smile that curled his lips.I eyed him suspiciously. "For your words. Earlier to your sister."

I didn't say anything, choosing instead to openly take in the King in front of me. His wolf was giving me the same pointed attention that I assumed he would give a bird that had flown too close.

I stilled. There was a sudden change to his expression that made all of my muscles tighten and a slick sweat start at my nape. Briefly, his eyes flicked to meet his mother's.

"I was wondering… Perhaps-"

"I would hate to see His Grace so blatantly misled," I suddenly blurted out, my heart beating painfully against my ribs as I stared at him. My fingers went white as they worked around each other but I held his gaze. Slowly, I worked for my next words. "That is why I say this. I must warn you… What I think of you - excuse me - What I have the sinking suspicion that you're asking-" I tried and failed to give him a smile. He was looking at me like I was some kind of unique beast that he had just found on a hunt. "I am not a flower to be picked, Your Grace. Many of my sisters - I assure you - would be perfectly enchanted by the thought of - of marrying you. I must warn you now - if you ask for my hand I will not refuse but know that for as long as you live, I will never, _ever_ love you."

For a moment, all was still. Lady Stark had pointedly gone back to her meal and was talking with the gentleman to her left. And Lord Stark - well, I couldn't be quiet sure. His eyes were running over me with a sort of cool consideration that I thoroughly detested.

Neither of us spoke.

I had the sinking feeling - nightmare - that I would forever be stuck like this - waiting for him to summon his knights and chop off my head for being an impudent wench. Finally, he moved and I was astonished to see a smirk curl his lips.

"Are you so sure that you could never love me, Lady Frey?"

It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. It was bewildering - utterly _ridiculous_. Inside, I felt something wither and give a deep roar. What an arrogant _ass_.

"Your Grace," I said tightly, hurrying to curtsy before he could say anything else that might make me jump forward and strangle the life from him.

Nearly boiling over with rage, I stormed back to my seat.

"Willa, what in the world -" But a hush had fallen over the hall. Robb Stark had risen from his seat. My father was all but buried alive in his attention in Joyeuse. He still had that stupid smirk on his lips and briefly his eyes twinkled over at me.

"The Frey's have welcomed me into their halls with grace-"

"Here! Here!" a couple knights slurred out from the back of the hall and Robb's smirk turned indulgent.

"I have enjoyed their mead and their meal and now I think I shall enjoy their beds-"

"With which Frey?" someone howled and their was a roar of laughter until Robb raised his hand slowly for silence which he quickly earned.

"None," he said crisply and beside him, my father's attention was diverted enough for him to splutter out a protest. Before he could fully begin on his rant, Robb continued. "Today shall be a day of rest. Tomorrow, I shall announce who will be my wife."

There was that stare again. It pierced me to my very soul but I refused to indulge him. I stared adamantly forward.

"May you all rest well," he finally said in parting and there was a great clatter of chairs.

"Did he ask for your hand?" Roslin whispered to me, catching me as I stared after his broad shoulders with that great wolf beside him. Her eyes twinkled as she stared at me. "I saw him - you both. He asked for your hand didn't he-"

"No, Roslin," I murmured crossly, sliding from my seat. "He asked for something far worse."

* * *

_Please send me a kudos if you like it and a review if you want to make me a happy little writer._


	4. The Hidden Space

In the Twins, although it didn't look like it, there were many places to hide. And being one of the most disliked of the Frey children, I knew exactly where each and every one of them were.

"I feel like shit," my brother gurgled, staring glassily out at the river from our bench. "And it tastes like someone pissed in my mouth."

"Hard to believe," I said, my words laced with heavy disdain.

"Don't be jealous."

"Yes. I'm jealous of all the girls that get drunk and fall on their asses. Woe is me."

Corlin winced, pressing a finger to his lips as a ray of sunshine hit a particularly reflective surface and lit our small little niche. When we were small, we had found this place, a forgotten area of the garden. It was a tiny alcove that had been carved into the walls that bordered our own tower. Since the Twins were relatively water bound, the garden itself was shabby at best and rather depressing to look upon. Few Freys had ever tread upon it's pebbled paths.

 _There are few beauties to be held inside this crooked place_ , I mused, my nose twitching as I took in the gnarled vines that hid the entrance to their secret spot. It was hardly inhabitable with just a single bench and a sudden dip that would lead to the waters below. The path that wound back to the actual garden was eaten away with vegetation that seemed almost carnivorous in nature and was trim enough that both sibling had to press against the Twin's walls to make it.

But it was a place that was our own and as of the past day or so, I was becoming increasingly more aware of the walls caving in around me. It was all in thier eyes - they could see that the Wolf had taken an interest in me. And that was what truly terrified me. For eighteen years, I had lived in these walls - with few prospects and even fewer changes. Now life was barreling toward me and no matter how many corners I ducked around or how quickly I ran, it was always there, baring down on my heels like an insatiable beast there to devour who I was.

"He stared at you quite a bit," Corlin suddenly murmured, sending a sidelong glance to me as I gave a sniff, face flaming.

"He can stare at the rump of a cow for all I care," I hissed, a sudden, irrational fury burning through my veins. It was all her sisters would speak of. Even when I had gone back to my chambers, I could hear their incessant babble through the doors. Derwa - the vile witch - standing tall at the head of those gossiping snakes.

"You protest too much," my brother murmured, his eyes softening in the glow of the rising sun. "Starks keep their word. You know the reason they started this war-"

"Honor," I spat out viciously, turning a disgusted glare to my brother. "It is why all the men fight. It is why he took our Twins and marched across it with all his men and bloody banners. I know why he fights. Only a man sick with greed would give his heart in return for a pile of rocks and rubble."

There was a long silence, one that was filled with the rush of my blood and the wild cadence of my breath. I hated him. For reasons that were unfair to the man that I had seen last night with his quiet power and his clipped words, I despised him with every beat of my heart. Softly, the wind from our lake whipped across the cold stones of the Twins, sweeping my hair back as errant waves tried to beat at our walls. I despised him because in him I saw something that I didn't understand.

"You would do well to learn the mind of your husband," my brother finally sighed, rising to slip past me as I gasped.

"I will not marry him!" I cried petulantly, watching as he reached the vines. From my seat, I thought I saw the telling tilt of his lips as he smirked.

"For his sake, I hope that he won't try to tangle with you either, my dear sister," he chuckled before slipping away at my cry of indignation.

It was absolutely absurd and a bit insulting to have my actions scrutinized so thoroughly. And that vile wolf with his constant, penetrating gaze. A shiver jolted up my spine, an odd sort of fluttering starting in my stomach as I thought of the rough cut of his jaw and the way that his curls brushed along his temple.

"Utter tripe," I hissed, standing abruptly. As the feast went on below yesterday night, my maids had snuck their way into my room and replaced my simple dresses with the useless articles that my father had begun to throw at me. Like little nymph in the night, they had spirited away my best dresses and left me with horrid scraps with too much embroidery and too little error for dirt and dust. With these dresses, I had to wear slippers instead of boots and tiptoe around messes like I was rehearsing to dance for the King himself.

The one that they had stuffed me into today was a golden monstrosity with a sweeping skirt that dragged in the back and swooped lowly to cradle my shoulders and shove my cleavage to a ridiculous degree. I could neither bend over nor twist for fear of becoming exposed. It was utterly ludicrous.

In the South they could bear with this type of unclothed approach but here, where the winds blew harsh and the winters crouched like trees slowly rooting to the soil, it was near deadly to carry on in such outfits.

It was lucky they gave me a shaw, I thought bitterly as I pulled the thick gold and red cloth more tightly around me.

"Lady Frey."

Something deep inside me coiled back in terror as I froze, hands fisted in my voluminous skirts to try and lift them away so that my foot might find a foothold in the uneven pebble walkway. I could not be this unlucky.

Standing only a few paces away was the most devilishly handsome man that I had ever beheld. The morning light lit his curls to a dashing garnet fire, stubble apparent from a night without a good shave. Even then, his jaw was strong and his features sharp.

He was utterly striking. And I utterly hated him for it.

"Lady Stark." His lips tipped up in quiet amusement, his eyes cutting as they skated over my rather exposed chest.

"I heard you," I snapped without thinking, straightening before I paused. He was the King. And by his raised brows and the way his head had tipped slightly to the side, snapping wasn't a word used to describe anyone who ever was to address him. Stiffly, I curtsied, turning my gaze to the ill-kept grounds. "My King…" I finished awkwardly.

"You are a rather strange creature." My gaze whipped to meet his, my mouth twisting open in a gasp which only seemed to amuse him more as his teeth flashed in a mischievous grin, the arrogant ass. Briefly, his eyes flicked around the ragged garden with it's splatter of weeds and it's rotting flowers. "A rather strange creature in a rather strange garden."

Unwanted, my temper flared even higher, scorching my cheeks as I took a breath, clasping my hands before me. It was obvious what he thought of this particular plot of land and strange was a rather gentle way to phrase it. My pride pricked, souring my mood further as I turned a glare to an offending vine near my shoes. "I don't like to garden," I clipped out tersely watching as he turned his gaze back to me.

"Surely there are others to tend to it." It was more of a gentle inquiry than a statement and I glanced around once more. I hadn't ever thought to garden, in all honesty. There were few things of beauty in these horrid walls and - I winced, trying not to think of all the little girls and boys that had once roamed the desolate streets of the Twins. Now they were no more, all sold away to merchants that needed able maids and squires. Everything beautiful here died. There was no room for something that needed such care and tenderness as flowers and trees.

"A garden has no place in the Twins," I finally said, grabbing up my composer like a suit of armor to shield myself from the unsettling thoughts.

His eyes seemed to grow somber at the comment, his brows dipping into that intimidating expression. His next words were quiet. "What does have it's place at the Twins, My Lady?"

My cheeks stung, a sudden chill making me shiver. Something hardened in my head, the words turning to rocks as they reached my ears. The question, spoken so softly made me twitch in discomfort, my shoulders stiffening as I stared at the man in front of me. The way he spoke, the strong undertone of authority even when he was questioning, seemed to dig beneath my very roots. Just like that Robb Stark, the Young Wolf of the North, the King with his Bloody Banners, had separated me from my home of eighteen years. _You certainly do not belong here_ , his eyes seemed to say.

"Have you loved before, My King?" The words blurted from my lips, spilling over suddenly and with such force that I took a step nearer to him. My brows creased as his eyes widened and then seemed to shutter like blinds clicking shut.

"Do you care for my history, Lady Frey? Would you like to know where my heart has wandered?" The words were said with gentle prodding, his eyes critical as I stuttered, blushing.

"I could not care in the least," I snapped back.

"Then why do you ask?"

Well, that was a rather obvious course of attack. There were no words that I could give for I did care. Perhaps too much. Instead I settled back, glaring in boiling silence at him as he looked over me in amused silence.

"Was it bravery that won you the war or arrogance?" I finally seethed, huffing as he took a small step forward.

Standing so close, it was painfully obvious how much taller he was. Even though his furred cloak seemed to take up a great deal of bulk, it was clear that he was built with the brutal strength that came from war. In that moment, I knew that he could kill me in an instance. And yet… I blinked up at him, my brows creasing as I stared into those stunning ice eyes.

"A bit of both, I suppose," he murmured but those eyes held a soft sort of sadness that seemed to ache through him and grasp at me. "Do you commonly speak to your guests with such raw hostility?"

"I have not had the honor of many guests, Your Grace," I replied dully, tilting my head back even further so that I could stare more fully into his eyes. "Forgive my impudence."

"Do you hate me so?" It was spoken as if not to be answered, his brows furrowing as his face worked with puzzlement. "What is it that disgusts you so thoroughly, Lady Frey?"

 _Careful_ , my mind hissed cautiously.

"It is not my place-"

"You will answer me." The impudence, my mind roared, my jaw tightening. It was not a request. He was commanding me.

"The loyalty of my house is not enough for you, My Grace? Now I must give you my thoughts as well?" My cheeks burned with fury, my mouth tight as he tilted his head to the side, seeming to mull over his answer.

"Yes," he finally said, shrugging. "I am curious. And I will accept nothing less than your truth."

"How arrogant, Your Grace," I remarked coldly, offering a serene smile. "If you wish for my honesty I will give it to you. I have heard much of your feats. Your war has cost many a man their life and left the grounds stained with blood from North to South. You are brave-"

"An honor that you would compliment me so," he said with a smooth smile, his eyes glittering with amusement.

My smile ran cold and bitter as I stared up into his charming face. "But there is a difference between the bravery of bloodshed and the bravery of one's heart. You have mastered one and forgotten another and if there was a war on the latter, I would be sure to be the victor."

"You would fight?" His brows raised incredulously.

"Women are the only ones who can," I stated, giving him a petulant smile. "We are the only ones who know the rules."

"And if I disagreed?" he murmured

"Then I would ask you to name the woman you have given your heart to."

His gaze was pensive, a sudden tilt marring his lips for the briefest moment before he smiled again.

"And if I were to say…" he leaned in, his breath hot on the shell of my ear as his voice dropped intimately. " _Willa Frey - the darling of the Twins_?"

Something constricted around my heart, forcing a painful puff of air to rush out of me as I jerked back, clutching at my ear. It was an utter outrage. It was embarrassingly ridiculous. I blinked up at him, cheeks flaming as he continued to smirk.

"You are a beast, Lord Stark," I hissed, venomously to the last breath of air as a rush of steam flickered from his lips. He was laughing. My temper flared hotter. "You know nothing of the heart and I pity whichever sister you choose."

With that I turned, abruptly catching sight of the fact that the only way to exit the garden was to go around the great brute of a man. Stomping like a pettish child, I rounded on him, trying to skirt around him while not giving too much ground.

Faster than I would ever know, he caught my arm. I gasped, astounded that he had the gall to touch me like I was some wench that he had found in an inn.

His piercing eyes caught mine, his gaze serious. "I will ask for your hand tomorrow. I thought you should know."

 _How lovely of him to notify me,_ I thought bitterly.

"I - will - _refuse_ ," I snarled, every word punctuated by a sharp tug in an effort to get him to release me. But his grip was strong, his fingers like iron even though they did not bite or bruise my skin.

"You told me you wouldn't refuse me."

I stilled. We stared at each other for a long moment - his face cocky and amused; mine filled with contempt.

"Fine," I finally hissed, nearly spitting with anger. "I will not refuse you, Your Grace. Are you pleased? Do you enjoy the thought of a female having no other choice but to say yes to your sloppy advances?"

"Many women have told me that I'm quite charming," he mused, finally releasing me as I stumbled away from him mid tug. Straight, white teeth flashed as he watched me stumble. Fuming, I regained my footing and straightened.

"Many men have told me that I should dance naked in the streets to inspire the Gods to bring rain yet I do not see fit to do so," I snapped peevishly, gathering my shawl tightly around me as I tried to salvage the last scraps of my dignity.

The flash of gray suddenly caught my eyes, making me still momentarily. His direwolf had come to look after his master. A tremor of fear ran up my spine. The wolf's eyes were too alert, too straight forward as he loped over to curl around Lord Stark's legs. It was as if - far from simply following his masters emotions - he was determined to make his own conclusions about my character.

"It was a pleasure to find you this morning, Lady Frey." The deep timbre of his voice sent warmth skating up my arms, drawing all of my attention back to him. Just in time to see his eyes dip lower to the exposed skin offer by my dress. "Very lovely dress, if I may be so bold as to compliment."

A grunt was all he received in return. In my gut, I could feel the familiar twitch of rage starting once more.

"Feel free to explore the gardens, Your Grace," I said with restrained control, dipping into a deep curtsy.

"I look forward to tonight, Lady Frey," he called after as I quickly made my retreat. It took everything I had to not turn around a throttle the ass. He was finding joy in my distress.

I bit at my lip. There had to be some way to get out of this mess.


	5. The Blood of Freys

I couldn't think of a single thing that I could do to sway the attention of the Wolf King.

Our halls, usually dimmed to an almost depressing hue blazed with the flames of a thousand torches and servants rushed here and there as they prepared for an even grander display than the previous night.

"Lady Frey!" I fought off the grimace, turning to one of the serving maids with a serene smile. She was out of breath before she reached me, her face reddened and sweaty from the run from the boiling kitchens to my hallway. "Lady Frey - we have - we have tried to prepare the meal for tonight but some of our girls are missing. Gone since last night! We are becoming wor-"

"Oh what an utter mess," I murmured, rolling my eyes as I lifted my voluminous skirts away from my feet.

Yet again, my maids had forced me to change. It was becoming more than a chore, turning into something akin to torture. Every dress seemed to grow in volume and become more and more tedious to keep clean. At the moment, I was trying to see around the poof of my sleeves. Apparently, the dressmaker had thought that since the shoulders would be exposed all the way to just above my elbows, that he could make the rest as big as he wanted. That fashioned with the ridiculous manner that the bosom slipped up to form a choker - I was going mad. Everywhere I went, I could be heard shuffling about in this blue monstrosity with it's overzealous silver embroideries.

"Lady Frey-"

"I will find you your maids," I sighed, already making my way down the steps to the hall that held all the guest bedchambers that the Twins had to offer.

"Oh thank you, my Lady!" the serving woman gushed, hiking up her skirt as she dashed back to do whatever she had run from.

There were many things that could be expected when men, hungry from war and starved for the gentle comfort of a woman. In nine months, I was certain that the cry of a new babe would come from more than one room. But for the moment, the problem fell solely on me. And I was more than a bit agitated.

"Who the bloody hell is knocking at my door when I just went to fucking sleep?" Behind the thick doors, I could hear the clatter and rustle of sheets as - I'm sure - the man who was so enthused by my arrival shuffled from bed.

And then the more delightful sound of an ass being slapped and a woman squeaking out a giggle.

"Stay like that, you naughty little slut."

_How utterly delightful._

I forced a serene smile as the door was finally opened. Standing in the entrance was a rather tall man who had a wild mess of blondish-brown curls. Deep circles marred his eyes, making him look far from the age that I guessed he was. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to be thankful that he had seen fit to throw on a pair of trousers.

"Well, hello there." By the silky smile that was curling his lips and the way that he was leaning towards me, I had the strange impression that he thought I was here for darker motives. "Have you come to join or…?"

"Come back to bed, Theon," the voice from deep within the bedroom followed by an even sleepier sounding agreement. Oh goodie. Two maids in one go.

"Lord Greyjoy," the man corrected absently, his eyes still on me.

Lord Greyjoy - Ward to the Starks. Yes, I had heard of him, if a bit vaguely. His triumph had been a mere footnote in the war. From a young age he had been sent to the Starks in a sort of hostage agreement between the ironborns and the Starks. Although it didn't look like a hostage situation to me at the moment. After Lord Eddard Stark's execution in King's Landing, he had apparently pledge his loyalties to Lord Robb Stark. In an attempt to gain the fleets of the ironborns, he traveled to his father's keeps where… I gave him another once over, ignoring how it made his smirk grow. Rumors swirled about what occurred within those walls but within a month Lord Balon Greyjoy had mysteriously died and in his stead his daughter had taken the Salt Throne.

It had shaken the mainlands, sending my father into howling fits of rage and outward mockery. A Queen to rule the Salt Islands - how fitting, he had yapped.

"Lord Greyjoy," I whispered soothingly, dipping into a deep curtsy as I kept my smile in place. "I assume that your night went well?"

"It would have gone smoother if you had been there," he stated with a suave smile. _Oh dear_.

I coughed, my smile strained. "Yes… Well… I have come to ask-"

"What is your name?" He suddenly broke in and I resisted the urge to snap at him as my temper flared. It was so like a man to think that his cock outweighed the problems of my sex.

Instead, I dipped into another curtsy. "Will Frey of the House of the Twins."

"Lady Willa Frey…" he whispered and I glanced up curiously to see his features crinkled in dull recognition. _Curious_ … Swiftly, he grabbed up a shirt from the ground and threw it on. "Has Robb sent you?"

I blinked. And then blinked again. Who in the world..? Did he mean King Robb Stark? The Young Wolf? Why in the world would he think that I was here on his behalf?

"I sent a message with one of your uglier maids to tell him that I would be in the garden at dawn and it is hardly that time." He shuffled around further, searching for something.

"It is far past noon, Lord Greyjoy," I informed him blandly, sending a critical eye to my maids who had gathered together on the rumpled bed. Guilt would have been a good word to describe their expressions. Guilt and a little bit of fear. My lips thinned and I snapped a finger, sending a pointed glance to the rumpled dresses on the floor. As they hurriedly followed my unspoken instructions, I turned back to the ironborn as he swore, crouching to look beneath a chest at the foot of his bed.

"Well, that's just bloody brilliant," he hissed, finally finding a single boot somewhere in the far corner. "Was he mad? Was Lady Stark there?"

"I have no clue what you're speaking of, Lord Greyjoy," I finally answered growing bored with the man's nonsense. Deftly, I moved to the side as my maids stumbled around me and into the hall, trying hurriedly to look like they had not just fucked one of the King's most trusted advisors and confidantes. Sending a withering look his way, I straightened to my full height as he pulled another boot from somewhere under the bed sheets. "I merely came to retrieve some of my maids. I really have no quarrel with who you decide to sink your cock into, My Lord but please do not disrupt the running of my House with your petty needs." I gave him a cold smile. "It would bother me greatly," I said before I shut the door quietly behind me.

"Oh, My Lady - we did not realize-" I quickly silenced the maid with a hand, sighing wearily. I despised cleaning up the messes made by such - frankly disgusting acts of lust. The emotion was beyond me - further than that, it disgusted me. It looked like the greasy hands of my father - the times that he had laid a hand too close to Roslins butt or looked too long at Derwa's rather impressive bosom. I shivered, remembering the drunken nights when he had slipped into our hallways, his shadow darkening the cracks around my doors as I shivered in my bed.

"Where are the others?" I asked flatly, regaining myself. Meekly, they pointed to a few doors, naming some of our honored guests in quietly miserable voices. It was always best to go with the higher ranking men and women in the Houses first. For a moment, I mulled over going to Lord Stark's room before I remembered suddenly our earlier meeting. There was a slim chance that he had left a serving wench in his room alone.

But there was something else - a sudden emotions that caused me to hesitate and jerk back from the thought like a hot iron had grazed me.

My eyes wandered to stare out the stained glass of the hall windows, the water beyond a brilliant reflection of the setting sun, dipping with colors of deep, pumpkin with a mixture of garnet swirling to splash up to the shore.

I had felt this before. When I was a child. It was how I used to view a young boy - the stable master's son. He used to clean and brush Merigold. I had admired him in a way that bordered on treacherous. Every day I would walk down to visit my horse. And to visit him. After Merigold was killed, in all rights I had no reason to go but still, in the dewy evenings, I would find my feet leading me there.

We never touched. He never gave me hope nor did I utter a word of my hidden admirations - my secret hopes. I kept them inside of me like a nasty little creature that needed to be beat down at night, chastised away from the false hope I gave it every time I went to see him - this miracle boy who had grabbed at my heart so suddenly.

And then one day… Well, he grew up. I never asked for his heart so why did I expect anything? But in the way that a child naively loves another, I loved him and perhaps that was why it was so crushing. Seeing him with the baker's daughter. And then the kennel master's. And then finally a noblewoman who had visited the Twins. They came and went and I stayed.

Somehow that had been worse. Like something holy and pure being soiled in a way that I could never know.

 _Why did that come to mind?_ I wondered, brows furrowing before turning away from the waters outside of the Twins.

Within the hour, I had rounded up at least ten serving ladies from the bedrooms of our honored guests, each more slovenly and rude than the last. I even had the utter joy of finding one of my sisters curled up in a side stairway with a skinny little squire boy curled on top of her. By the end, I felt dirty like I had tripped and fallen into the mud.

"There's my favorite sister."

It was nearing the evening celebration and I was afraid that I would feel like curdled milk all the way through the dinner and into the wee hours of the night. Which was an utterly delightful prospect.

Corlin looked dashing in a tunic of silver, lined with a cerulean blue that matched his undershirt and offset the brown of his trousers and boots. For a moment, my eyes tiredly worked around the color. I thought… It looked oddly familiar…

White teeth flashed sarcastically. "Cute dress."

"Oh bloody hell." We were wearing the same confounded colors, by the Seven. I was going to butcher someone. Hand me a dressing maid and I would strangle them myself. I wanted to tear the confounded thing off right in the middle of the hall.

My brother tsked playfully, chucking my chin as I stared balefully down at the fabric that I had fisted in my hands. "Queen's shouldn't use such language."

"BY THE SEVEN, DAMN THE CROWN! I DO NOT WISH FOR IT!" I had yelled it - my words echoing down the halls and filling all the spaces. I hadn't meant to but I had - My hands grasped at my mouth, unwanted tears filling my eyes as my brother visibly paled.

 _Treachery_. If anyone had heard-

Nails bit into my arm as Corlin yanked me into the nearest room, closing it softly but quickly before locking it and rounding on me. "Have you lost your wits, sister?"

"Corlin-" I was crying, shaking as I stared down at my hands. I was breaking and I didn't know why. Why was I crying so? I never cried. "Cortlin - I - I'm so sorry."

For a moment, I just stood there like a fool, sobbing for no reason but feeling so utterly broken and - and scared.

"If I hug you, you won't hit me will you?" Silently, I shook my head, a part of my brain seizing around itself as strong, warm arms engulfed me, my brothers quiet voice shushing me as I sobbed all over his wonderful tunic.

I wasn't sure how long we stood in that room - a minute, an hour, a day? All I knew, was that for a brief moment I felt like myself again - whole and untouched by the outside world. For a moment, there had been no war and there was no king only Corlin and I, still children, hiding from our father after mother had died and he had become mean and drunken.

"I cannot become Queen," I whispered into Corlin's chest, finally speaking the words that had been haunting me.

"Is that what this is about?" He pulled away from me, crouching to meet my eyes with his own critical ones. "You are afraid of the crown."

"I'm afraid of what it will do to me," I admitted, pressing tiredly at my now swollen lids. "They spoke of the old Queen - Lady Cersei. They call her the Mad Queen of the South. When her children died in the WAR-"

"Wildfire," Corlin whispered, his face sinking into a solemn mask.

The words from the ravens at King's Landing had come to us late. No one cared to tell the Twins what had happened in a war that we had so minorly assisted in. But what had come, had been horrific.

King Stark had worked his way to the South, slaughtering the Lannister army while reinforcing his own with every victory. He gathered the allies of the South and the deserters as well when famine struck with a vengeance. The North knew how to survive when the crops ran dry and the waters separated us from supplies but King's Landing rarely felt that ache. Soldiers came if only to fill the ache in their bellies.

And with famine and weakness come disease. Such horrid disease that even the Highgardens recoiled from its bitter touch. Jaime Lannister had already been captured and executed by the Stark armies and with no other choice Tywin Lannister took to the fields to try and command his war back into order. Somehow, I was sure that he may have been able to do just that if not for the tragedies that took place in the South while he was away.

Poison and murder had filled the Great Halls. First the young King Joffrey and then Lady Cersei's betrothed, Lord Loras Tyrell. Madness had filled the walls. Just like that, the Tyrell's head turned their vicious eyes to the Lannisters. In the dead of night, Margaery Tyrell was gone, spirited away in the dark of the night to sit, colding and watch the battle from the depths of The Reach with her grandmother.

It was of little use.

With betrayal comes rage and I was not sure that any fury could be as great as the one of a mother that had lost her two children. The Lannisters needed to act quickly if they wanted to keep their ground. They had more troops than the Tyrell's and by all accounts, Lord Stark was far enough away that they could make a risk.

As acting king, the decision fell to the only surviving member of both the Baratheon and Lannister bloodline: Lord Tommen - a fatal choice by the Lannisters.

Tommen, Cersei's youngest had fallen in love. He stopped eating. He stopped speaking. And eventually, he jumped from the windows of his bedroom. The sentimental act of a boy who should never have been involved in war. Enraged, Cersei sent her troops to raid the High Gardens, a calculated risk that paid off in some ways but ultimately destroyed the Lannister's hold on the South.

Highgarden was lost. Olenna and Margaery Tyrell were slaughtered and their lands plundered. But Cersei lost more. As the war in The Reach went on, it became painfully clear that Cersei had spread her army too far. She could defend King's Landing but with no reinforcements she would fall.

She prayed. She sat in the halls that used to be her families and she prayed.

Tywin Lannister fell.

No one would be coming to her defense - not even her own blood, Tyrion Lannister. She was alone and she was too clever not to realize just that. Mad with grief, she took the supply of wildfire that had been held in the keep since the Battle of the Blackwater and she burned more than half the city to the ground.

When Lord Stark had finally reached King's Landing there was nothing more than rubble and the ever burning flames of wildfire, licking away at anything that dared to breath and live. His hopes of finding his sister, Sansa Stark growing duller and duller in the face of such utter carnage. They had said that it had taken weeks to choke the fire and more deaths than anyone could have imagined.

But with it something bright and unexpected came. For once, the Seven Kingdoms had to unite - if only for a short stint - so that wildfire wouldn't engulf the lands.

And then reluctantly, painfully Tyrion Lannister had come to own the title of King in the South, if only due to his diplomatic ties with Lord Stark and a few other key players through the war. However, heavier than even that was his knowledge that Sansa Stark had been secreted away to the Vale.

"I am not afraid of going mad," I whispered, searching for some way to explain. "I am not Cersei Lannister." Desperate, I pressed a the soles of my hands into my eyes until I felt a dull sting. "I am afraid of a different kind of insanity."

"Madness does not run in our blood, Wil-" I jerked away from his touch, baring my teeth as another wave of tears stung my eyes.

"Does it not?" I hissed. "Is it not madness that brought Sherei - poor, little Sherei who has not even bled yet - to stand in front of a King so that he might try to wed her? Anyone else - anyone of the men who stand beside our father - would have taken her if she was offered. Is that not a sickness that runs in our blood? A sickness that has poisoned our father and corrupted us into a House that is too below the people of the Seven Kingdoms to even consider? We are slimy - a disgrace to the nobility around us." My eyes searched over his face as a sort of guilt clouded his eyes. "You have seen him. You know that if a girl of only ten and two was offered to him - he would have her. Will you tell me that we are not corrupt?"

Suddenly, his jaw set. "You are scared."

My heart fluttered. "I-"

"Do you think he is like this?" I blinked, jerking back as if he had struck me. Amber eyes blazed down at me.

"All men are the same," I finally forced out, looking away as a flash of pain jolted across his face. "When he grows tired of me, he will find another. He will bed her and impregnate her and then force me to sit and watch as her sons play with my children - the ones he gave me just as he gave another. And I will end up a wicked, cruel shell of myself."

I shut my eyes, flashes of all my previous mothers striking painfully across my mind. They had despised my brother and I for the simple fact that father had shown us a little less hatred and spite than our siblings. And the mothers - they always knew as I did not. The burning hatred that I saw in their eyes when they looked upon me was something that I could not mistake - always there when he set me on his lap or held me a little too long. As if I _wanted_ him to touch me as he pleased - stare at me as he used to look upon our mother.

"Then you will call me." I blinked, turning sharply to stare up at my brother as he gave me a confident smirk. "You will send the fastest raven and I will ride to you on the fastest steed and beat your husband so soundly that he won't even be able to look in the direction of another female for he will not be able to see."

I didn't know what to say. He looked so confident - so sure that he would always be there. And somehow that made me a little bit more confident too.

"You are daft," I finally choked out, trying to force down my resulting smile. Somehow, someway… I felt safer. I felt like there wasn't as much darkness or fear in the world anymore.

"And you are a crybaby," he countered. "Honestly, it's utterly embarrassing. Look at yourself, sister. It'll be a wonder that Lord Stark even looks in your direction with how ugly you look at the mom - OW!"

Sniffing, I stepped past him and out into the hall as he clutched his side. Honestly, it was only a little tap. What a wimp.

"You always were soft, brother," I murmured, looking as dignified as I could as I walked slowly down the hall. "That talk was nonsense for he will not pick me. Forget it."

"Denial is a pretty kingdom," my brother mused thoughtfully as we made our way down the hall. "But I do not feel the need to live there with you."

"He will choose another," I said simply, forcing myself to think of all my other sisters - and their many, many virtues.

"I seem to remember a conversation that went exactly like this," he said, his eyes going to the Heavens thoughtfully. "Strange…"

"You bore me," I snapped. "Run along and join our brothers. I'm sure their recounting all the virtues of our sisters to the King as we speak."

"They are quite meddlesome." A sudden smile lit his face. "Would you like me to speak of you, my dearest sister? _She likes to order people around, Your Grace. No. No. It might sound bad now but get her in your keep and she will have that place running smoothly in no time at all._ Not too shabby, eh?"

"Absolutely marvelous." I murmured, eyes already intent on a maid heading swiftly in my direction. Briefly, I remembered his earlier words and coughed, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "And...Thank you… For - you know… earlier."

His smile softened and for a moment I returned it.

"Don't be afraid of the unnecessary, bird brains," he murmured, tugging at a stand of hair that had escaped my braided bun. For a moment, the briefest flit of emotions ran across his face. He looked sad - heartbreakingly sad as if something had just been taken from him… But that was only a moment and then it was gone as if it had never existed in the first place. His grin grew.

"I fear nothing," I sniffed, returning his grin with a mischievous one of my own.

"Perhaps when Lord Stark asks for your hand tonight, you will simply turn to stone and then we might be able to have a living statue in the Twins with a plaque that reads: Here rests the woman who feared nothing." His brows furrowed before he shrugged. "I'm sure a painting of the moment will do though."

"You put too much faith in petty gossip," I growled, sending him a withering glare. It was easier to deny it than to face the wilting truth. The Young Wolf had already told me that he would ask for my hand. There was no denying it. But I could always hope. Maybe Derwa had wooed him through some form of trickery at some point in the day.

There was always one bit of hope - no matter how small it may seem.

* * *

I was utterly wrong.

"Look upon each other and say the words."

I felt dizzy. Sick to my stomach dizzy.

It had all happened so quickly, almost like for a brief moment the Gods had pumped my life full of adrenaline, making everything go in hyper speed. And I was left, cocooned in shock, staring dimly from the body of a stranger.

Ah, yes. That's where it all started. For a brief moment, I had forgotten.

Everything had gone correctly. For a moment, with how much Derwa and the King were speaking I had hoped. And then the halls had grown silent and my father had roared, bellowing with drunken indignation for Lord Stark to pick. Time slowed. Voices grew to mere scrapes against wood because he was turning to me - turning so slowly that I thought that he would never get to where he wanted to be.

But then those piercing eyes were staring so intently, no humor, no more mockery, just a seriousness that made me step back.

"Lady Willa Frey, may I have your hand in marriage?" His lips were soft and sure as they pressed to my knuckles, the scruff of his beard tickling my skin. Briefly, his eyes drifted up to meet mine, a flicker of that mischief - so familiar now - sparking to life.

 _Had I said no?_ I suddenly thought, my mind spinning.

"Father." I blinked up, so startled that I was staring into the grey of Lord Stark's eyes that my hand jerked, nearly yanking away from his. Luckily, he had a strong grip and his big bear of a hand was nearly swallowing mine. _Bear bastard._

So that was a no. I had definitely said yes. "Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger."

Our words blended steadily, his voice, so much stronger and deeper than mine almost seeming to cradle mine. Had it been a day? I glanced down, taking in the fact that I had definitely been changed into the most gaudy gown that I had ever worn. Maybe it had been a day. In the end, did it really matter? I was living a nightmare, trapped inside a jar of honey, flailing about for some way to end it.

"I am hers, and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days."

And then his lips brushed mine, his stubble scratching for a moment before a hand cupped my cheek and drew me in closer. I felt his lashes brush my cheek as he closed his eyes for the briefest moment.

I kept mine open, too stunned by the sudden mind-numbing realization that I was married. I was married to the King of the North, the Young Wolf, the man that would have a million songs written about him.

"I'm sorry." It was a sudden whisper, something that made me blink as Lord Stark pulled away, his eyes never meeting mine. Had he said that? It was so soft that perhaps I had been mistaken. But surely his lips had moved ever so softly against mine.

"LET THE FREY'S AND STARK'S BE UNITED!" My father howled, jolting forward to slap Joyeuse's butt, sending her jerking forward. The hall exploded in cheers.

Numbly, I searched through the crowd, desperately looking - _Corlin_. He stood beside my other brothers, a stark, lonely figure, utterly still in a wave of color. My brother. Something bitter filled my mouth. A sudden sorrow that I hadn't thought of before. His eyes drifted shut, his face turning away as he tried to hide away the pain and sadness.

Everything had changed.


	6. The God of Many Paths

It was my wedding night.

"Stranger," my sisters whispered, their heads bowed around me as I sat on a rickety chair in the center of my room that my mothers and aunts had sat in before me. The heavy perfume of incense and candles clogged my throat, making my eyes water. "We speak to you."

Few prayed to the Seventh God. Many believed that his only power was to take away those who deserved to live - that letting his name steal any sort of breath from your body would allow him to take the rest. We were not fools. We knew the risks. Neither Male or Female, animal or human, The Stranger was a God of Death - one of six others who seemed gentler and more forgiving. As children, we came to the simple conclusion that a God who had fewer people calling him was more predictably the one that would hear us loudest.

And when one of my blood sisters was taken by the whims of marriage, we gave ourselves over to the traditions passed from mother to daughter.

"One life dies and another begins." Derwa continued on, stepping forward, her fingers dipping into a bowl of crushed hibiscus and honey. Her eyes held a softer edge then they had before, briefly meeting mine as a finger rubbed the paste against my lips. There was something there - pity? Sadness? "Stranger, you keep the gates to the unknown. You walk the paths of many men and none at all, give what others do not wish to receive and take what is meant to stay."

Walda's voice took up, gentler than Derwa's as her fingers curled my hair into a thick series of braids, her fingers slick with patchouli oil. I could smell the deep, musky scent of the plant as she wound a few of it's purple blooms into my hair. "Our sister steps into one of your many paths and we beseech you to watch her steps - to keep the road straight and her path clear."

My hand shot out as Derwa moved away, latching onto her slender wrist and causing a gasp to escape her.

"What-"

"Promise me," I whispered, something like desperation creeping into me as I caught sight of the twin's wild mass of red curls burning through the cloud of incense. And then there was Sherei, her eyes wide as she clung to Roslin's skirts, wondering what was happening, why we had all gathered in my cramped little room. No one had married a Frey since she had been born. "Promise me that you won't let him marry away the little ones. Not yet."

"The twins have bled," she replied, her face deceptively blank even as her words tightened with strain.

"Just one more year," I pleaded, my fingers tightening. "I have not - They don't know how to live separately. I have not prepared them for that reality."

For a moment she didn't say anything and I felt my breath quiver out of me as I thought of my brother. No one would protect him. We would be separated and alone in our own ways. But with Derwa, the twins and Sherei would be protected for a bit. Her cunning far outweighed her cruelty. She was the only one I trusted to keep the others safe.

"I think you've overestimated yourself for far too long, Willa," she hissed, rolling her eyes as she peeled my fingers from her wrist. Her eyes narrowed as they met mine. "They are my sisters as well. Stand."

I drew in a shaky breath, suddenly feeling exhausted beyond my years. Below, I could hear the dull sounds of men roaring and plates and glass being smashed. I closed my eyes, trying not to vomit as I felt Derwa and Walda pick at the strings of my dress until it slithered down my shoulders, letting the cold wind that carried from the River Trident ruffle the thick haze of incense that had gathered. Around me, I felt the air ripple, drawing a harsh breath from me before I felt Walda and Derwa's hand along my spine and arms as they rubbed patchouli oil into my skin. Our mothers and their mothers before them had taught us that the smell would sate men and make them grow to love our very touch.

It was something that the Frey children did not give to those that married in but kept tucked away in the secrecy of our own chambers.

My eyes pricked as I felt Derwa's fingers rub along my breasts and down my stomach. I wanted to be someone else. I wanted to be small again with my mother and my brother. I wanted to feel the river's breath on my cheeks at dawn as I scaled the thin rocks that allowed me to walk beside it. I wanted to whisper into Corlin's curls again, close my eyes and know that in the morning my brother and I would be safe and the sorrows of the night before would be behind us and not in front.

"You will not cry, sister." I blinked, gasping as I felt the hot dribble of tears roll down my jaw. Derwa's eyes were fathomless as they stared into mine, her rough hands cupping my cheeks. I hated her. Not because of all the cruel things she had said - no. In that moment, I hated her for the look of absolute pity that she was giving me. Deep in her heart, I doubted that she ever wanted to marry the wolf. The life of a King's first wife was often short and fraught with misery. I felt a sob building in my throat, more tears escaping. But Derwa shook her head, her eyes hardening. "Babes are meant to cry. Babes and weak women. We Frey's may be many things but the women here are strong. We do our duty and serve our father with honor. You have married a King. So now you must be a Queen."

I shut my eyes, choking down the trembling. This was a miserable, ugly business. And I would not cry when the Stranger beckoned me to walk with him. I blinked once. Twice. And then nodded as Derwa released me and waved for my wedding shift to be brought. It was a gauzy thing, white and frilly in a ludicrous way that seemed to try and hide it's actual purpose. I was to wear this through the night and in the morning it would be paraded about to my father and brothers and the King's men.

By the morning, it would be stained with my blood.

"Remember what the Sept taught us," Walda whispered, her brows furrowing as I stepped toward the door.

I didn't say anything. The last thing I would want is for my Septs words to be marching across my brain while Robb Stark fucked me. I felt my pallor go a few shades lighter at the thought, all warmth escaping me as Derwa needed the oil over my thighs and hips. I could hear her explaining how it would be. What a man would look like without clothes and how he would touch me. I flinched, closing my eyes as Derwa tied neat little bows at my front, the fabric abrading my skin which was completely exposed under the slip.

"As is and always has been," my sisters whispered, clasping a thin strand of silver around my neck that had a spike of purplish-pink crystals. My brows furrowed. This wasn't a part of my jewelry. Where had it come from? "You have not loved but you caress the footsteps that are burned into your roads with whispered words. You sing to the winds that will not listen and speak when there is nothing more than darkness to receive. We give a life for a different path that has been walked before and yet has not. We give a life for the rubble of a desecrated path that might be made new again by the joining of two souls. We give our sister for the offer of a kinder lot and a fuller belly after a time of famine and sickness."

As the final words were uttered, we all bowed our heads as one and for a moment I closed my eyes as a silent cry welled within me. I was crying out to the world for something that I knew had no words, a deep ache that I was afraid to name as desperate hope.

"It's time to go," Walda whispered, a hand lightly touching my back and goading me towards the door. It was time to go.

"What's going on? Where is Willa going?" Sherei's voice was small and frightened as she called out to me but I couldn't bare to turn. Dwon the hallway I heard a man's deep roar and the sounds of scuffling. When I was young, my favorite sister had married off on a night like this. I had been so scared of all the uncertainty - scared of the fact that my sisters were all congregated in one room, speaking quietly. My sister had tried to comfort me that night. Perhaps it made it worse when she wasn't there the next moment. My breath quivered from me even as I squared my shoulders, tipping my chin up in a charade of confidence. "Willa, wait!"

My hand clenched around the nob and without hesitation I yanked it open as my little sister broke into sobs, blubbering at my rejection. A part of me tore apart at that sound, the anguish there as she watched me walk away from her tears.

"Sssshhhh," I heard Roslin whisper behind me and I bit into my lip, tasting honey and hibiscus and a metal ting as I bled a bit.

"Sister." Corlin, his hair mushed and his eyes heavily ringed with sleeplessness, stood in the hallway with a rigidness that seemed to counteract the lazy way he was leaning against the wall. Briefly his eyes swept across my near, see through gown, before his jaw was jerking down, his eyes squeezing shut like he had seen something that had physically hurt him.

Quietly, Walda clasped her hands beside me, waiting as I tilted my chin farther up even as I felt a flush of shame warm my neck. I refused to be weak and - worse yet - embarrassed over the duty that I must commit to tonight. A few moments passed before the quiet golden brown of my brothers eyes met mine, his adam's apple bobbing as he tried to reign in the rage that I could see bubbling up.

Sudden terror, silenced me as I thought of my brother - the one who cried when he first saw our father with someone other than our mother - trapped in this lonely, cold place.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had stumbled into his arms, my fingers clenching in his shirt as I let out a dry sob. I wanted to stay. I wanted to pass evenings with the summer rays on my skin and the water winds rolling to dampen my hair. The unfairness suddenly came crashing down on me as I breathed in my brother's familiar smell mixed with the heartier scent of ale. Was I still a child? At the moment, I felt like one, clutching at Corlin like a babe.

But to stop this from happening to Sherei and the twins, the older sisters had thrown themselves into a wolf's path. Derwa had been smart enough to send me to the back of the line, even exacting a little bit of revenge in the process. But farther than that, I could almost see the wheels of her mind grinding away at any way to draw the Wolf King's attention from the youngest of our sisters. She had ultimately sacrificed me but, in the end could I really fault her?

Sniffling, I pulled away from my brother, my lips setting again as I wiped angrily at my tears. I would not go to Robb Stark as a weeping babe. I would go as a woman.

For a moment longer, Corlin said nothing, his eyes running over my face again and again.

"He's not-" I bit my lip, blinking rapidly. "He's not a monster, Corlin. He won't - he's not that sort of man. He'll - he'll take care of me."

"Willa," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Men like that don't stop at one war. They want more - more land, more armies."

"Corlin-"

"You're not right for war, Willa." He let out a gust of breath, his eyes suddenly growing unsure as he drew me close once more. "He can't take you. Not my sister."

"You're the one who said he would," I whispered, rubbing a hand along his back.

"Because you're a loudmouth," he hissed into my hair as he clutched me closer. "You just couldn't be a dull, little girl, could you? You had to be _interesting_."

"Don't be a bitter, old man."

Behind me, Walda cleared her voice. It was time for me to go.

"We could hide in the stables," he whispered suddenly as I tried to pull away. "Just for a day or two until I can steal some food and money and then we can leave. We can go to the Free Cities. You've always had a fondness for it."

"I have a fondness for the view," I replied dryly, finally extracting myself from his arms to search his gaze. There was such fear there - fear that I could almost feel in my bones. "We have nothing, Corlin. I have never traveled beyond these walls - have only heard the tales told by the soldiers that visit of Pentos and Norvos. Can you picture the utter desecration that would befall us if we were to travel past our father's money?" Gently, I took his hand, rubbing a finger along the soft skin there - easily torn and delicate as lace. For a moment, I startled. A sword had never been placed in this palm - his fingers had never curled around the steel of a blade. Did we even know what money felt like? I rarely saw it. I rarely felt it's tang in my hands. Why, when we needed only to call a servant? "We are babes, brother. There are lions out there and we are deer to be eaten."

His lips curled bitterly, his eyes softening even more. "Oh, Willa." I watched as his lips quivered, the hand I was cradling coming to smooth over my face almost reverently. "Haven't you heard? All the lions have been hunted to extinction."

A chill went through me as his lips grazed my forehead, leaving the wetness of his tears behind. Yes. They had been hunted by wolves. I shut my eyes, just for a moment imagining that it was another night. That Corlin was here to say goodnight. That tomorrow I would wake up in my own bed, that everything would be the same as it had always been.

But then Corlin pulled away and the chill coming from the open windows in the hall seeped through my thin gown to the oiled flesh beneath.

I gulped, swallowing another wave of sadness. There was nothing more to say.

"Willa." Walda's voice was a soft reminder. She had given me more than enough time. My father would be wondering if I had ran away.

I turned from my brother without a second glance, my mind going blank as my feet padded silently through the stone halls that I had ran through as a child. There was an odd calm that had seeped into my very bone. Something that came with the sureness of going into a situation that I could have never prepared for and that I had very little say in. There was an outcome that was inevitable and it involved a young king and an heir. I could bear him children. I wasn't so sure about the rest - marriage, love.

"There she is." I blinked, stopping as I saw the gathered ensemble of men crowding in front of one of the few ornament oak doors in the Twins. I had very rarely gone into it since it was in the guest wing - meant for kings and queens.

My brothers were gathered around, most avoiding my eyes as I approached, straightening even further as I felt my mouth curve into an angry slash. I was sure that I looked rigid as a board, specifically when I saw the quieter presence of Robb Stark's mother standing by the closed door and beside her, looking like a cat eyeing some milk was none other than Theon Greyjoy. A few more lingered, obviously part of the Stark's ensemble.

"We thought you had left." Thomos was quickly silenced by the withering stare of a few of my more sensitive uncles and brothers. I was more inclined to ignore him, making sure to keep my face neutral as I came to a halt across from Lady Stark.

Should I bow? I was queen. Did queens bow to anyone but other queens?

For a moment, my eyes ran over her, her soft eyes and delicately plain face. She looked like a homely women, one who would nurture a babe, coddle them with sweets and smiles. Would she mold me? Would she speak to Robb about how unfit I was going to be as a mother? There was a tense kind of silence as Lady Stark seemed to make the same calculations before her face settled into a warm smile.

And then she was bowing, her head low as Theon followed her lead. And then one by one my brothers and uncles followed her lead. It was mildly satisfy having to see them reduced to such prostrations when they could hardly stand to see me in the halls most days. I let a brief, sardonic smile curl my lips as I stared at their bowed heads. Even Walda was struggling to keep herself in an elegant curtsy beside me.

"Rise," I whispered, barely able to draw the breath to give more than that. If they weren't so crowded around, none would be able to hear me. My eyes swept to meet Lady Stark's again, giving her a slow nod. "I appreciate your presence, Lady Stark."

Ah, what an inadequate statement. The slow upturn of her lips seemed to confirm her understanding of all the unspoken things that went into that one sentence.

"Please, Catelyn will do," she assured before gesturing to the man standing beside her. "This is Lord Theon Greyjoy, a dear friend and brother to my son."

"We've met," I stated dryly, earning a raised brow from Catelyn and a full smile from the Ironborn as he swept into another bow. I almost submitted to the urge to roll my eyes as he took my hand, his lips brushing along the back as his eyes twinkled up at me.

"An unfortunate greeting and one I hope to remedy." What an utterly _exciting_ prospect.

"Mm," I sniffed, yanking my hand from his and turning towards the door as Catelyn seemed to restrain something that looked suspiciously like a laugh. I eyed the gentle light that was flowing from the cracks in the door. "Is my... husband... here?"

"Inside the room," one of my brothers piped up and Walda gave a sigh, placing a hand to my back. "We've inspected it and found no intruders." By intruders, he meant men who would get rid of my virginity without the need for Robb Stark to get his dick dirty. I was already tired of these games.

I felt Walda's heat as she leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "I must leave soon. Women aren't supposed to be around these sorts of activities. But… I heard father instruct our brothers to make sure that the marriage… was, um consummated."

My eyes narrowed at that, my spine stiffening even more. "Well, that will not do."

"What are you two whispering about?" Garrin, one of my older uncle's snapped and I turned an icy glare on him as Lady Stark's brows raised further.

They rarely spoke to me like this. I was the reason that all of their little dirty secrets didn't get around to their wives. Apparently, now that my departure was eminent they thought that I could be pushed around.

"Will I be given privacy or will you be present through the whole night?" Even my own ears shivered at the icy sharpness that seemed to shiver through every syllable. My brothers visibly paled as I continued on, letting the full rage that I felt leak into my facial expression. "I can assure you that my duties tonight will be fulfilled but they will not be given to audiences candor. So you may find a hall to get drunk in or you may go take a dive in the Green Fork for all I care but you will not be sitting outside of my chambers." I gave them a thin smile. "And if I hear even the shuffle of feet, I will make sure to tell King Robb Stark personally. I'm sure he would agree with my assessment."

I wasn't sure at all. The incredulous smile that Catelyn now held revealed nothing.

But it did the trick. My brothers scurried away with nothing more than a few low murmurs and wary bows. Walda looked more satisfied than I would have thought. I turned my gaze back to Lady Stark and Lord Greyjoy, giving a slight curtsy before reaching for the doorknob.

This was it. This was the moment.

And I was surprised that I felt a little bit of relief as I slipped inside to the warm heat of the marble floored room with it's large, silk draped bed and windows that would hold the light of the River Trident when the sun rose the next morning. A curtain of sheer red drapes fluttered in the light breeze that came from the balcony. It would get chilly with the air coming from the river. It was a good thing that the creamy sheets looked to be thick and that a canopy of silk billowed down over the sides of the bed and shaded it from wind.

And sitting by the fire was… my husband. What an odd thought.

Those eyes - the ones that sent an odd tingle up my spine - turned slowly to me, his face almost decidedly blank as the fire crackled in front of him. A log popped and I resisted the urge to fiddle with the strings running along my front. Instead I studied him. Taking in the hard planes of his face and the heavy shadow of his brow. Everything about him was hard - unflinching and decidedly sardonic. His plain white shirt was open to reveal the dark hair covering his chest and the compact muscles of his body, his leather trousers riding low on his hips. Why was it so hot in here?

"Have you come to ask me to shoo your brothers from the door?"

Immediately, a wave of embarrassed irritation washed through. I should have stormed from the room at that very moment. Maybe giving him a good whack before leaving. But I found myself stepping back instead as he unfolded himself from his seat, stalking toward me.

Was I scared of this man?

"You needn't worry, Your Grace," I snapped, growing even more enraged as my voice wavered at his closeness.

"Good," he murmured, his eyes running over me, lingering a bit too long on the clear points of my breasts through the nearly sheer material. An odd darkness shadowed his already stormy blue eyes. I almost missed the tensing of his shoulders, the tightening of his stance. "I would have been disappointed if you couldn't get rid of such small prey."

"I am not an animal to be watched." Why was I whispering? My heart beat painfully, my eyes snapping to follow his hand as he reached forward and cupped my cheek. It was hard to breath. I felt flushed, dizzy at his nearness and unsure. What was happening? My brows furrowed, my mind reeling. It was terrifying. I felt scarily similar to falling slipping on a step, trying desperately to regain your footing.

It was a sort of power that I prayed he knew nothing about.

"We can stop," he suddenly whispered, his voice deep and rumbling even as he pressed closer, forcing me a step back. Why was I backing away? I gulped, throat dry as I tried to look anywhere but his eyes - his eyes that were like thunder and rain cloud and fresh snow all at once. He was hot, heat radiating from him even as the scent of steel and leather and clean, sharp soap flooded my nose. He smelled good, dammit. And I was dizzy.

Why was he so close?

"Stop?" I whispered back dumbly, blinking up at him as a rough thumb dragged along my bottom lip. There was a dark, desperate look to his eyes that was making me feel lightheaded.

His hands were nothing like anyone's that I had touched before. They were the hands of someone who held a sword like a merchant held a quill. I could feel the cut of them like the jagged edges of rock and they made me shiver as he cupped my neck, his lips drawing closer as his eyes lowered.

"I can control myself," he said but the words seemed to be more like he was trying to convince himself instead of me. "We can go to sleep and leave in the morning."

What was he talking about? I couldn't think straight. Anxiety and heat made my knees weak. What did I want? I was scared. Things were getting out of control and when he touched me.

I let out a squeak, blinking as he grasped my hip and dragged me into him like he didn't want one inch of space between is. He was hot and hard all along the front of me and a delicious heat flared through me as my nipples scraped along his chest. Why was he acting like this? Like a beast that had been poked one too many times?

"Tell me to stop," he growled and I gasped as his hand tugged on the strands of my hair, digging through the tangle of my braid. When had he wound his fingers into the strands? His eyes darkened even more as my lips parted, his head dipping further. "If you say the words then I will. Tell me, Willa."

I wasn't going to. I couldn't.

With a low growl, he forced my head to tip up, taking my bottom lip in a light bite before sucking away the sting. Almost against my own will, I parted my lips more for him, letting out a short moan as arousal sizzled through my stomach. _I hate you_ , I thought angrily even as my fingers finally tangled in the soft, slightly damp curls at his nape, my back arching as I tipped into him. _I hate you_ , I thought viciously even as his tongue pressed along mine and I felt his free hand grasp lower, hauling me into him with a hand to my butt.

 _Control_ , the scared part of my screamed and it was that fear that jolted me back to myself. I would not become one of the women that I had seen wandering from my father's chambers. I would not get lost in this man. This beautiful, dominant man. Clumsily, guiltily I pulled away, frantically pulling at the string keeping his girth contained. He was big I realized as he sprang free and another surge of fear stilled me again, allowing him to push my hand away and his grip to turn me back into his kiss. His shirt had somehow fallen to the ground along with his trousers.

"Slow, sweetheart," he breathed but even that sounded like a growl, his lips grazing mine. "We need to go slow."

Mutely, I shook my head. The Sept had told me that it would be less painful if my husband was small. How was this supposed to work? Why did he have to be so big? I just needed to get this over with. No feelings. No losing myself to the odd spell that he was casting.

"You taste so good," he growled, biting down on my bottom lip once more as his hand dragged up my back, hiking the nightgown up with it.

"Take me," I whispered, hating the way my voice cracked. Take me right now so that I can get the pain over with, I thought desperately.

Confusion lit his gaze, his brows furrowing. No. I couldn't have him stop. I couldn't face the light of the next morning without evidence that we had been coupled. My father would not accept the marriage. He would sit in a chair and watch us until we consummated the marriage. That frightened me more than anything that could happen tonight.

My hands shook as I untied the bows at my front, letting the material pool at my feet. The confusion was gone from Robb's eyes now. All that was left was a heat that made me flush, that burned me from the inside out and sent a jolt of arousal through me. Giving a growl, he stepped forward, his lips kissing along my neck as he leaned around me, curving us both as he hauled me closer. I could handle this, I thought dizzily, my eyes fluttering shut as I gave a low moan when the heat of his mouth found a sensitive spot beneath my ear.

He liked it when I made noise, I noticed distantly as he gave a responding growl. _Control_ , the scared little voice piped up again. Stumbling back, I navigated our way to the bed, gasping as my knees hit the frame and we were falling.

"Take me," I repeated, cupping his face so that he would only see me, only see the plea in my eyes and not the quivering of my thighs.

Still, uncertainty lit his eyes. "Willa-"

I silenced him with a rough kiss, reaching down to lead him to my entrance. I knew this much. I knew that he had to enter here.

"Willa-" he tried to growl again, yanking his head away but I was already wrapping my legs around his waist, my nails digging into his backside and sending him jolt forward - sending him jolting into the dry heat of me. I jolted with him, alarmed at the sudden presence of his erection against my folds. Momentary panic gripped down on me as he let out a string of curses. "Willa, we need to slow down."

No. There was no other route. It needed to happen before I could think. Desperately, I grasped his face, my fingers grazing along the rough prickle of his stubble. "Please."

He let out another curse, pain momentarily flashing through those eyes of him before his head bent and I was being pushed into. Stretched. I blinked rapidly, tears springing to my eyes as he forced himself forward, breaking the barrier inside of me with a sharp stinging pain. And still more. When would he be all the way in. I gasped trying not to sob even as my body protested, the sting intensifying until I wanted to claw up his back. I wanted to make him bleed like I was.

Finally, I felt him bottom out, his balls hitting the curve of my ass.

"Ssshhh," he murmured into my hair, kissing my ear, my neck, my collarbone. And a part of me tore at the softeness there, the agony as he stared down at me.

I shook my head, closing my eyes. I didn't want his sympathy. I didn't want his softness and heat. I didn't want to feel any sort of desire to lay with him and feel his arms in the night. Because in the end, he would leave. He would grow older and tired of my kisses.

So I gritted my teeth and dug my nails deeper into his butt sending him jolting which in turn sent another zing of pain spiking through my gut.

"Willa," Robb growled, his whole body tense, his fingers digging into the sheets by my head as he leveled up to stare down at me. "We need to go slow. You need to adjust to me before-"

I tightened my leg, sending him grinding into me again and his eyes closing as he gave a groan. "Fuck, you're tight."

I gulped down a breath as he shook his head, leaning forward to press my lips to his. "It's okay, Robb. It's okay. I swear to you, it's okay."

After a moment, his jaw tight, he rolled his hips, forcing his way out before foraging back inside of me. Damn. I blinked back tears, digging my nails further into his back even as he hissed out a breath. It wasn't over quickly. His hips rocked into mine for much longer than I had thought. The Sept had prepared me for ten minutes - if that. Robb Stark lasted at least 20 minutes longer. I choked on a cry as his hips started to lose their tempo, slamming harder into me before he roared and I felt the warm spurt of his come filling me up.

Everything was quiet, the gentle rise and fall of his chest pressing into mine as he slumped, his fists twisting into the sheets. It felt a lot like he was trying to claw apart the sheets. Like he regretted every second of the time that he had just spent with me.

I tried not to think too much about the slash of pain that lanced through me at that realization. I gulped down another set of tears, this time a different kind of sadness then the one previously felt.

Silent and dark, he pulled out from me, his face closed off as he went and retrieved a washcloth to gently clean my thighs of blood. He was such a confusing man. He was an enigma. I shivered as he walked away, getting shakily to my feet and hurrying to crawl beneath the covers. I tried not to think too much about the blood that had seeped into the top layer of the sheets at the foot of the bed. I tried not to think about the silent weight of Robb Stark as he flipped the covers back and crawled in as well.

We fell asleep facing away from each other that night, on opposite ends of the bed.

I woke that night to the comforting weight of massive arms wrapped around my waist, a hard body at my back and the warm breath of a sleeping man on my neck. My eyes fluttered and, half conscious I wiggled back into him, getting a resulting grumble of agreement in return before I drifted into darkness again.


	7. The River Runners

" _Father, please!" Trysta sobbed, clutching her dress to her as she was shoved forward to her knees before the raised dais that my father was positioned upon. I blinked, watching a shiver run through my mother before she stilled herself. My brows furrowed as I clutched at Corlin's hand. She didn't look like my mother anymore. She looked cold and distant._

" _What's happening to Trysta?" I whispered, choking as my sister gave another sob, the tattered remains of her dress sliding down her shoulders to reveal the globes of her breasts._

" _She-" Walda squeezed her eyes shut as Trysta's husband stepped forward, his boots ringing along the hall as he made his way toward our father. Her bottom lip quivered. "She did something bad, Willa. She - she - her husband-"_

_Walda stuttered off into silence as the handsome silliouhette of Lord Drox finally reached his wife. They had been happy last night, I thought in confusion desperately searching my memory. Before we had been asked to leave the wedding dinner, they had been laughing together, dancing to a fiddler that had come with Lord Drox's company. He had tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled down at her with a twinkle in his striking green eyes._

" _She married a man," my sister, Bredgit said darkly, her eyes striking as she stood still as a statue. "That's what she did."_

_Father was holding something white in his hands, his smile crooked and rotten as he stared at Lord Drox and his second oldest daughter who had crumpled in on herself, her finger searching out her husbands. White-knuckled, she curled her fingers around one of his, reminding me of a babe clutching her mother's hand._

" _Did you enjoy my daughter, Lord Drox?" Something flickered along the young lord's face before it became stony._

" _Father, please-" Trysta sobbed, her beautiful face swollen and red as she appealed before our father. My eyes ran over the red marks scratched along her back and the leering way that our guards eyed her. I had heard the fabric tear as they had hauled her into the Great Hall. "Please! We were just - leaving. We were going to-"_

_Without looking at Trysta, father raised the crumpled white fabric to his nose and took a long breath, sneering before hurling it at the feet of Lord Drox. Wincing, I watched it flutter through the air, the fabric unbunching to reveal that ugly, red stain._

" _RED INK!" He shrieked and my brother and I clutched at each other as the rafters rang with it. I remember thinking that the very ceiling would cave in on us at my father's rage. I was young enough to still believe that he was that powerful. His face contorted into an ugly sneer. "DO YOU THINK ME AN IDIOT? Did you believe that I would let you leave with such an insult?"_

_His words were met with a moment of silence, even Trysta's sobs subsiding. I supposed that she couldn't release a breath as Lord Drox yanked his hand from her grip, his face impassive as he stared down at the white shift._

" _She's your offspring," he said with a shrug. "I thought to not offend the lady but since you have debunked the rouse…" He gave a shrug, ignoring Trysta as she gave a wail._

" _Father!" She sobbed, leaning forward as her face twisted in a plea. "We didn't - He came to me the night before." A new wash of tears rolled down her face. "We were going to be married. I thought-"_

_Our father let out a disgusted scoff, waving a hand as she was reduced to silent tears. "You are absolutely useless to me now," he snarled, looking like a hound dog that had been poked from a restful slumber. Lord Drox stood cooly beside my fallen sister, looking unruffled by the turn of events. Keen eyes turned on the lord. "What do you want?"_

_An odd glint entered Lord Drox's eyes. "Another wife, obviously. This one is defiled."_

_Defiled? I had learned that word from the Sept just days before. She had pointed to two pigs rutting in the mud, her eyes deceptively blank of emotions. Defiled, she had said with a sigh._

_A harsh snort whooshed from my father. "And what - would you suggest - I do with the one that you already deflowered?"_

_Walda and Bredgit looked sick, their faces going pale. Was that all we were? Property to be throw away at the first sign of damage? I felt like throwing up, my mind flashing to the pig as it had finished it's ugly business, snorting and frothing. And the gilt as she sat mutely beneath him, staring wildly off into the distance. Bile rose in my throat, thinking of dear, sweet Trysta being used like that animal and then thrown away to accept a fate that had been far away just the day before. Trysta who had sung me to sleep. Trysta who had flicked my nose when I was but a babe, trying desperately to get me to giggle._

" _I'll take her too," Lord Drox offered, his face that of a man who was taking great sacrifice upon himself. And my father - the one who my mother touched and kissed and spoke softly to - it looked like he was amused. As Trysta crumpled further in on herself, looking pale and blind._

_For a moment, my father was silent, his brows lowering as he actually seemed to consider the lord's offer. Finally with a grunt, he motioned towards the corner that I stood in, huddled with the rest of my sisters. "My other daughter, Bredgit is very fair," he said, looking somehow like he was suddenly bored by the whole situation. My stomach turned sickly._

" _I would prefer the small one, actually," Lord Drox stated, his eyes luminous as they met mine. Against me, I felt my brother's chest roll with a growl, his arms tightening around me. "Willa was her name, I believe."_

_Fear clogged my throat as I let out a whimper. No. No. I couldn't go with this man._

" _She hasn't bled yet." Trysta paled, shaking as she stared up at that man who she had wed herself to the night before. She had looked happier in that moment than she had in all of her fifteen years and in the night when we had gathered in her chambers to speak to our God, she had been smiling, talking quietly with Bredgit about all the many children she would have. How they would speak softly like he did._

_Bredgit's face had gone blank, her lips thinning as she pushed me deeper into the sea of my sisters. "She would hardly be satisfying for a man like yourself, My Lord."_

" _I would like to decide myself," he said, his eyes still searching for me in the crowd of skirts._

" _You have decided enough, you impotent welp," my father snarled, sudden venom making him looking fiercer than his slender frame warranted. "You will take Bridget and Trysta or you will take your ruined reputation. Choose."_

_A sniff was the only reply Lord Drox gave before he was sweeping away, stepping around Trysta like she was a broken animal, whining at him. I didn't move as Bregit stepped forward, murmuring softly to her sister as she pulled her torn dress higher over her shoulders and helped her up._

_I didn't see them again. Later, I would hear that Bredgit had died a year later from childbirth and that Lord Drox had sold Trysta to a whorehouse in King's Landing._

"Willa." I was dreaming about a meadow - a lake filled with starlight and a man with dark curls whose face I could never glimpse. He was telling me to join him in the water, laughing as I refused, claiming that it would swallow me whole. "Willa."

Something warm and rough touched my cheek, grazing down my neck to cup my shoulder and squeeze. Something earthy and sharp like the smell of the forges and forest reached my nose as I gave a small sigh. I wanted to keep dreaming. It was nice here and the man was comforting. I was almost there, he had lulled me forward to the water's edge.

"I wasn't under the impression that my new Queen liked to sleep in." I groaned, the words moving along my shoulder like - Candlelight burned my eyes as I jerked away. Robb Stark. Robb Stark with his lips on my shoulder. I squeaked, whipping my head around as I caught the dark, humor in his gaze, his lips touching my skin softly as errant curls fell into his eyes.

"By the Gods," I squealed, scurrying away from him desperately as I caught sight of his bare chest. "You're naked."

His eyes had gone that stormy gray, straying to my breasts as his lips curled up. "You're naked," he rumbled out blandly and I yelped, face burning as I realized that my breasts were on full display. Panicking, I yanked the sheets to my chest. This was utterly humiliating. Even though… last night we had…

Legs shaking, I stepped from the bed, stuttering out incoherent sentences as I realized too late that I was pulling the sheets with me. And oh by the Seven, I could see his - "Oh my - You're naked. You need um -" I shut my eyes, turning away to face the fire. Was I an imbecile? Right now, with my thoughts running in every direction in open panic, I felt like one. Robb Stark was a sculpture. He had a body that was born in battle, his chest easily muscled and a sure, cocky tilt to his jaw as his eyes glittered wickedly in the fire's light.

He was beautiful and the bastard knew it.

"Now I can just see your ass." I let out a shriek, jerking the sheets around my shoulders. This was absolutely pathetic. Standing here, legs and nether regions aching painfully from yesterday's… exercises, I realized that I was the most hopeless, unimpressive bride that there had ever been. I had never woken up beside another human being besides my brother. Much less a very naked one with stormy eyes and a devilish smile. This was not how a dignified bride would act. This was not the kind of woman that the King of the North would keep.

So hefting the sheets higher, I straightened my back and tried to look as regal as I could as I swiveled toward the form of my husband. Who was still sprawled across the mattress like he was fully clothed, his eyes dark with amusement.

"You woke me, Your Grace?" I said, ignoring the curling of his lips as I tried to keep my eyes from wandering down the trail of hair that led… I gulped, staring hard at that hard nose of his.

"Have you slept very well, Lady Stark?" There was a bland familiarity there that made me painfully aware of the stiffness that was in my own words as well as a shock at his tossing around of my new title.

"Yes," I replied stiffly, setting my jaw.

A deep sigh was all I got as Robb rolled from the bed and I got a rather impressive glimpse of his backside before I was staring at the fireplace intently. Damn this man. Was his whole entire body a work of art? Did he have no flaws? Beside him I felt frail, breakable in the disgusting way that malnourished animals on the streets were.

"Must we leave soon?" I forced out, watching as he pulled on the trousers from the night before, combing a hand through the ruffled mess of his curls.

"Yes," he replied shortly, glancing briefly towards me as he collected all the articles of clothing that had been tossed aside the night before. He didn't seem at all pleased with what he saw. "Winterfell, I'm afraid to inform you, is an absolute disaster. I have sent men to oversee the reconstruction of the main buildings but I'm anxious to be there myself."

I eyed him carefully. Now that he was fully dressed it was easier to think. And much easier to meet his eyes. Delicately, I sat on one of the seats near the fire, keeping a keen eye on him as he continued to move about. There wasn't a screen that I could change behind so I would have to wait until he left.

Pursing my lips, I picked idly at the strings of the covers wrapped so tightly around me, trying to word my next question. "I know that men…" My brows furrowed. That didn't sound right. Would it be best to get this out of the way right now? Couldn't I just leave it for… never? I closed my eyes for a moment before I was forcing a bright smile. "As long as I sire you a child, you need not feel obligated to…" I didn't want to finish that sentence.

The silence was thunderous.

"Speak plainly to me, Willa." He was standing right in front of me so quickly that I jolted back nervously.

"You can take another lover," I blurted out, wincing at the bluntness there as his eyes narrowed dangerously, his big body caging me in on all sides as he leaned closer. He looked mad. My heart fluttered as his eyes bore into mine, looking similar to rain clouds spiked through with lightning. I was not doing a good job at being a wife. My face felt like it was on fire. "Or - or continue on… with um, with the ones that you… have?"

A low rumble filled the space around me and I stuttered off into silence as I realized that it was coming from the man in front of me.

"Do you think so lowly of me?" The words were quiet, spoken like the beginning rumble before the downpour. I became painfully aware of the fact that I was in a sheet and that he was fully dressed. And he was so close, his breath blowing hotly across my lips. It was crazy… My eyes wandered to the firm set of his lips, a momentary madness taking over. I wanted him to kiss me, I realized dumbly. "I take my duties very seriously, My Lady."

"Oh, I've heard how seriously you take them," I whispered back, a spark of fight igniting in me. I met his gaze head on, frowning. "That is why you did so well last night."

Brief pain flashed through his eyes before he was snarling, snapping like a vicious dog. "Last night was in no way a demonstration of what it would be like bedding you, Willa." I blinked, shock jolting through me as his eyes darkened further. "That, sweetness, was all you. And I'm ashamed to admit that I went along with it. But the next time I take you to bed, Willa, you will beg me for it."

Anger and embarrassment reddened my cheeks as I gasped, staring up at him as he gave me a wicked smile, his lips coming dangerously close to mine.

"I don't beg," I hissed.

"You've never been with me," he whispered and suddenly his lips were capturing mine, his hands tangled in the mess of my ruined braid, dried flowers falling to the floor around me. The press of his lips against mine was intoxicating and a part of me went a little bit crazy as he bit down on my bottom lips, thrusting his tongue against mine as I gasped at the pain.

Without thinking, my hands had unclenched from the sheets, choosing instead to curl into his shirt as his free hand hauled me closer. It felt like he wanted to devour me. It felt a lot like I wanted him to.

"Tell me what I would do with a lover, Willa," he whispered against my lips as I panted, clutching at him. The rough calluses of his hand tickled against my skin as he drew a hand down my spine, curving around me until he was all I could see and feel. His lips captured mine again, soft and fleeting. "Would I go to another woman for this?"

"I don't-" I squealed as he hauled me into his arms, sheets tangling around my feet as he clutched me to his chest. Heat rolled over me as I stared up at him, a wicked glint in his eyes as he dragged a hand along my newly bared sides. Something hot and sizzling tingled along my spine, jolting through my gut as I tipped onto my toes. He was so tall and holding me so close that it was the only way I could keep my balance since he wasn't allowing a single inch of space. My breasts scraped along the rough material of his shirt, my skin tingling as my whole front curved into his. I was drowning.

There was a wicked smirk on his face that was filled with darker intentions and secrets and not a bit of sweetness.

"Would you like me to find another woman?" he whispered, his nose bumping into mine. My head spun, an irrational possessiveness filling me at the thought. Idly, a thumb dragged light circles along my backside before squeezing down and sending me jerking into him with a yelp. Murmuring a soft apology, he kissed me gently, his lips catching on mine. "Do you?"

"No." It was said before I could even think. What was going on? My brows furrowed as I struggled to swim upstream.

He was making a fool of me. He was yanking admissions from me that he had no right to.

Anger seized me and I yanked myself away from him, growling like a riled puppy as I yanked the sheets back around me. And of course there was Robb Stark, chuckling to himself as he watched me like some massive, big bull of a predator. I seethed, glaring furiously at him through the tangle of hair that had fallen in my face. I probably looked like some dumb bird that had just fallen from its tree, a ploom of wild feathers sitting ruffled atop it's head.

"We may be married and that may mean that I am now yours to bed whenever it pleases you-" His smile vanished, an ominous glint entering his eyes as I fumbled onward. "But I refuse to be yanked about like some dumb doll for your amusement."

For a moment, he seemed to ponder that, his eyes thoughtful as they ran over me. Those eyes were too keen for me to feel comfortable. They saw too much. Under them, I shifted uncomfortable, trying to ignore the way that my hair was sticking about and the swollen feeling of my lips. I probably looked like a disaster.

Quietly, he walked toward me, his movements slow as if he knew that anything sudden would send me running. Finally, he was leaning over me. "You're right. Being married give me no reason to try and rile you so." His lips met mine softly, his grey eyes snapping hotly as they met mine as he spoke again. "I do it because I enjoy the way that you look when you get so flustered that you can't even remember your name."

I resisted the urge to shriek and throw things as he pulled away, sauntering to the vanity where his sword and cloak lay.

"We will leave when the horses are ready and your father…" His lips twisted as he reached the door. "Releases us."

His hand was on the knob. And I was still mad and flustered and I just wanted to-

"Why me?" What?

"What?" He turned to me, eyes wide.

When had that come up? Why had I asked that? I didn't care about that. I didn't particularly think that it had anything other than the relatively lasting impression that I had left in the Great Hall. It wasn't in my best interest to know why he had picked me out of so many other sisters who were nicer, prettier and had less of an attitude issue.

But now I had to soldier on. "Why did you pick me?"

For a moment, his eyes shadowed and his jaw tightened. A thrill of excitement kicked through me at the sudden silence. It felt a lot like I had the upper hand. And it was actually exhilarating. Briefly, his eyes drifted to the door before he was running an agitated hand through his hair.

He looked like he was about to admit something that he didn't particularly want to. But then something changed and his stance closed off farther.

"You're a very attractive woman, Willa," Robb said softly, his eyes lowering. "Not only did you receive the blessing of my mother but you showed yourself to… The North is a cold place, Willa."

"We have furs," I stated blandly earning me an exasperated stare from my husband. "And fires."

"You have to be strong there," he said grimly and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The Twins had not always been prosperous. The winters were harsh and the crops were hard to keep so close to the river. We relied mainly on trade. Which had not always be plentiful.

"My sisters are strong," I replied.

"No," he whispered, his eyes holding a cold sort of certainty. "I can assure you that they would not survive in Winterfell."

It felt like I was a child being told things by adults again. And it was more than a little bit infuriating.

"You're an ass," I snarled, huffing off to the vanity and plopping down in the seat.

"And you are an absolute delight," he said with a sickening amount of sweetness in his words as he opened the door and slipped into the halls without another word. And then I was left alone to stare into the mirror positioned at the perfect angle to accentuate the round set of my face with eyes that seemed to wide and staring. I looked like a wild little girl with a thatch of hair to match. No one would take me seriously.

"My Queen?" The maids had arrived.

I was wrong, I realized belatedly staring at the white billow of material as the servants in the Great Hall spread it out to reveal the ugly stain of red. Which was a lot bigger than I had originally thought. They had taken the sheets instead of my nightgown. I had known that this morning would be the most harrowing that I had faced. A box inside of me opened, wailing as the hall broke into roars and rowdy comments burst from the people gathered.

The heavy wood of the doors creaked as it came fully opened and the full expanse of the hall was revealed, my brothers reddened faces breaking with glee. I knew that it would be like this. They had one more opportunity to make me look weak. My eyes fluttered shut as I took a ragged breath. And now my actions would be watched by the men following Robb as well. I could not look weak.

The gentle scrape of shoes reached my ears as a few maids scuttled away behind me. I had asked them to help me waddle my way over to hall since the real act would only begin when I had gotten here. The gown that they had shoved me into was a garish thing, one with so many skirts of gossamer and silk that every time I took a step it felt like I was dragging chains. Gold swirled through the pearly white material, growing into a wave of pure metal that cupped my breasts.

My eyes blazed a luminous amber beneath a pile of coal that made my eyes burn every time I blinked and my hair had been oiled into a submissive wave of curls that had turned a deep brown with hints of gold in the mix.

The hall went quiet as they caught sight of me, standing atop the few steps that lowered into the dining area before topping off again at the dias. And I caught the barely perceptible tilt of Robb's lips as he sat at the main dias besides my father, an empty seat beside him. He hadn't given me a crown so I had had to supply one myself. It hit painfully at my skull, digging in until I felt the ache of it through my brain, my hair wound around the golden sphere so that it looked like a sunburst atop my head. In comparison, Robb's seemed to be made of golden thorns. I tried not to grimace at the difference.

My back ached as I took painful step after painful step, keeping everything as straight as possible. Robb's brows raised as I drew closer, a light dancing in his eyes. The white sheet had been put aside, placed next to my father who sat grimly in his chair. Honestly, I wanted to sit down in the nearest chair before I collapsed. My legs shook painfully, the activities of the night before making spurts of cramps gnaw at my thigh muscles.

But I forced myself to move slowly, not stopping when I passed my father who looked like someone had just spit on him. Biting the inside of my cheek, I resisted the urge to turn and bow to him. Eighteen years of training, bit in the back of my head.

Agonizingly slowly, I made my way to my husbands side, trying not to show my relief as I reached my seat and a servant rushed to pull it out. A whisper buzzed in small sections of the room but aside from that, the silence was deafening.

My eyes caught grey storms as I slid into place, a cocky smile gracing Robbs lips. Disgruntled, I blinked up at him, trying to settle the massive heap of my skirts around me.

"You look beautiful, My Queen," he murmured, his voice gravelly as his eyes sparkled. I blinked again, frowning at the blush I could feel burning my cheeks.

"I look ludicrous," I whispered back, my back rigid as I eyed the gathered nobility that were eyeing our table warily. "You know that this is all an act. One final stand to underline the point that I am more than the child that used to throw mud pies out the castle windows."

Slowly, Robbs hand turned over, his face shuttering into a indifferent mask. Still, I could see the glint of humor there. "My mother always did tell me that I was handsome enough to be an actor."

I leveled a glare at him before slowly sliding my hand into his much larger one and turning to the crowd with a false smile. "Yes. You do have the traits of a liar."

"A _handsome_ liar," he conceded, flashing an arrogant smile.

Beside me, Lady Stark was chatting quietly with a very tired looking Lord Greyjoy who kept flicking a finger this way and that. Occasionally, I would catch the name of a local river or forest. They must have been talking of our route.

"QUIET!" I quilled the urge to flinch as my father stood, his goblet raised. Whenever my father was to give a toast… It always seemed to end in an insult. His beady eyes focused down on me, a leer curling his lips. "My daughter, Willa was married last night."

A roar surged through my brothers and uncles. I hadn't caught any sight of Corlin since I had arrived. I tried not to let the disappointment show.

"And by the sheets, I am under the impression that it was one of many fruitful nights!" The sentence ended in a chortle echoed across the hall. Beside me, I felt Robb tense. Still, his smile remained, his pose almost lazy. He was rather… impressive. "May my daughter give you many sons."

It was the most tame toast that my father had ever given. It almost made me suspicious.

The meal continued on and I… I felt like a third party. Like the audience looking in on a cast of players that were leading an interesting story but that I had barely any connection to. I blinked, glancing at Robb as he tipped his head to the side, his eyes meeting mine. Did he feel this way too? Unwanted, my fingers gripped down on his, seeking… comfort? And a flash of recognition sparked through those eyes.

Before I could even take a breath, it seemed, I was changing, slipping into a green gown with a corset of leather and a fur cloak. It was cold in the North, I had heard.

"The party is waiting," my maid whispered, her eyes holding a sadness that I didn't think they would.

Where was my brother? I wandered sadly, glancing fervently over my shoulder as I made my way to the gate.

"Your sisters gave me this to deliver to you," the maid whispered softly as we exited through the kitchen, stepping into the dewy morning air. The cobblestones beneath my feet were uneven as we made our way to the front entrance of the twins. I glanced to the satchel that she held a series of dried herbs packed neatly into the left side along with a series of tin jars. My brows furrowed.

"What in the world," I breathed, running a hand along the spine of a thin leather bound journal. My eyes searched out the maid. "What is this?"

Her fingers pulled at each other as she glanced nervously away.

"They said it was your mothers." This conversation obviously made her nervous. "The morning meals for your sisters will be wanted soon."

She was asking me to dismiss her. Half-heartedly, I gave her a wave, still staring down at the contents of the satchel. What an odd mix of items.

"Your Grace." My head snapped up, catching the gentle stare of Lady Stark as she made her way from the gathering of horses and men a bit away. Her smile was gentle as it always was. "We are leaving soon."

"Yes, um-" I quickly closed up the satchel, forcing a smile even through the confusion of my thoughts. "Sorry. I was-"

"You needn't explain," she assured, falling into step beside me. "I have left my home for my husband before. I know the sorrows that come from it."

I wasn't sure that the emotions rolling within me were even as simple as pure sorrow. I stared up at the imposing walls of my home, the towers suddenly seeming like looming strangers. I hated this place. And loved it in an odd, twisted way. Thinking of my brothers and sisters, my affections almost seemed ugly. It would have been easier if I only hated it here. It would have been rational.

"I…" My eyes drifted along Lady Stark's face as my mind tried to find the words. "I wanted to thank you for your kindness. You have shown me hospitality when you haven't needed to."

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head, taking my hands in hers. "No. Please. The war-" A flash of pure pain lit through her, seeming to crash so roughly over her that I thought for a moment that she might collapse under it. But then she was shaking her head. "During the war, very few… very few houses stood behind my son. We were… we were stuck in one spot for a while. The Lannister army had been able to crouch all around us. We were running out of food. And we were running out of medicine. Bandages to cover our torn flesh." Her voice had lowered to a near whisper. There was something sacred about what she was telling me. A flash of auburn hair caught the light, drawing my eyes to the powerful presence of Robb Stark. "We were going to die. I've never been so hungry in my life. And then one day - a runner comes bursting into our camp with a carriage of food. They had taken the river from the Twins, skirting around the Lannister's army by the cover of night. And with them a little note in such delicate script saying: You have a toll to pay, Young Wolf." I blinked, suddenly dizzy as Lady Stark's head tipped up, her eyes glittering with tears. "I've never seen my son laugh so hard."

I gulped, throat suddenly dry. It had been part of my duty in the running of the house to send tokens to those that might benefit from it. It was a calculated risk to send Ara and Stelsa along the river. They were the best night sailors that we had, traders who had traveled through enemy lines many times before. I had only sent five packages before I had received the word that Robb had broken the lines and moved away from my reach.

My eyes caught on the flutter of Robb's cloak as he turned, his striking eyes meeting mine as a his direwolf curled around his legs. He was… breathtaking.

"I didn't know that you…" I didn't finish that sentence. I hadn't known that they had been entrenched. Lady Stark shook her head, biting her lip as a tear dribbled free. But they remembered. "How did you know it was me?"

"When we arrived it became painfully clear." A knowing smile cleared away some of the sadness.

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted any further conversation as a surly man with a burst of a white beard stepped forward. "We must leave now, My Lady."

He gave a deep bow to both of us as Lady Stark gave a fond smile.

There was no more talk as we swung up onto our horses and the gates of the Twins shrieked open for us. Up ahead, I saw Robb turn, caught his twinkling eyes before he was turning away. I would ride with Lady Stark for the journey.

No one came to say goodbye. I was ashamed to catch myself turning, staring longingly at the balconies freckling my home. I was ashamed at the burn of tears that choked me as the gates clattered shut behind me and my horse met the softer grass of the Riverlands. I hadn't left my home since I was a child. I had never been farther than the forest that surrounded it.

And now, sitting in the company of strangers, I felt a strange yearning. One that yawned open inside of me as I stared at the sky above me. Did Winterfell have a river that looked like fire in the evenings? Did it smell like the river in the mornings?

That strange calm settled around me again as I turned once more to gaze back at the blur of the Twins. There was no going back to my home.

There was only the wild road ahead.


	8. A Wolves Wife

"Do you usually stare at trees like they might uproot and coming barreling over to assault you?" Theon Greyjoy was one of the most annoying creatures that I had ever had the misfortune to spend time with.

Reflexively, my fingers tightened until the reigns felt more like a knife then thick leather. He had snuck to the middle of the procession for the third time that day, each one growing more and more tedious with his two-sided comments and slick smile. I despised men like him - men that would bed anything that didn't slap him away. My eyes narrowed as I snapped around to glare at him.

"Do you routinely chatter like an ape whenever a female is present?" I hissed back, earning a few startled looks from the men around me. My dear husband had put me smack dab in the middle of a cluster of burly men who smelled so ripe that my eyes stung every time a breeze caught me downwind.

I absolutely despised the fact that I had caught myself yearning for the smell of Robb Stark.

An easy smile was the only thing that Lord Greyjoy gave me, his eyebrows raising as if he found my attempts at warding him off to be pathetic. "Women have often told me that my chatter is quite endearing."

"They were more than likely lying," I said with falsely patient sweetness.

"I find this banter refreshing," he informed me, drawing his horse to light canter beside my own.

"I would find your departure even more refreshing."

"Normally women are more inclined to indulge me simply because of my title."

Even without the sideways glances that I was getting from the dirty brutes surrounding, I knew that I was being the sourest woman that had ever graced them. They didn't need to inform me that my silence was becoming darker and darker as each mile passed us. They didn't need to inform me that my constant glances into the deep, dark forest surrounding us was twitchy and flighty in it's manner. I was agitated because the road that we were traveling on wasn't really a road at all. We were making our way through trees, scraping through brush and rivers in - what I could only guess to be - an endless circle. And I was stormy simply due to the fact that every step of this giant beast beneath me drew an astonishing amount of pain from my sore rump and intimate part. I was in a cathedral of pain, myself being the only worshipper in the pews.

"Have you traveled many places, My Queen?" My jaw hurt from how hard I was clenching it.

"None," I gritted out, trying not to show how startled I was as a group of birds burst from the canopy above me. As the day wore on, the forest seemed to grow more sullen, slipping into a deep silence that unnerved me. The river always spoke, constantly babbling as it ran over the stone of the Twins. Here the trees gave no warning to those that were careful. It played favorites in a way that the water did not.

"None?" Lord Greyjoy was not expecting that response by his startled gaze. I frowned as one man in front of me turned to stare as if I had sprouted wings and was about to declare for us to make a nest in the branches. "There is a small village just north of the Twins and a larger town just south - surely-"

"As surely as the sun shines, Lord Greyjoy," I snapped, feeling furious at the overwhelming idea that I looked naive and small compared to these men who had traveled from North to South, Winterfell to the Iron Islands to King's Landing and now back. Being here, staring at the lavender flowers that dotted the lush grass and all the trees that looked to have their own history, I felt it. I felt stupid and childish like I hadn't seen a forest every day from the windows of the Twins.

But I hadn't needed to. My duties as the lady of the Twins had kept me firmly there. The sole time that I had ventured from its walls had ended in bloodshed. After that, I had lost my appetite for the outside world.

"I kept my father and uncles' in good health," I said, not really paying attention to the words I was speaking as I eyed a squirrel scampering down the bark of a tree. "I was in charge of organizing meetings between every member of my family, getting the kitchen staff to prepare the correct meals for every time of day, overseeing the general functions of the Twins and listening to the plight of my people. Along the way, a variety of smaller duties. It was time-consuming and I hardly had want for the outside world."

"When did you take the mantle of your mother?" I refrained from correcting him. Cercilia Crowlin was a brittle hag of a woman who liked to beat me in favor of coddling her own children and she most certainly was not my mother. She was the final women to look after the running of the Twins before it fell into my hands.

"Twelve," I sighed, growing weary of this conversation. I met his gaze with a raised brow, pursing my lips. He actually seemed to be impressed by that. "I was horrible at it," I admitted with a shrug. "The kitchen staff would bake all of the thing that I wanted because I informed them to and then a poor wrench or two would pay the price that I was not able to. My father didn't particularly favor peasant potage with fig cakes. I didn't know what to do with all the bastard babies that came to me in those first years from my servants in the Hall. I wanted them to have a home - a nice family who loved them and wouldn't slave them out. But that was a child's dream. The best I could offer them was safety. Not warmth. Not sweets and kisses when they lay on their beds. In my first two years as head of the house, I lost a lot. Mainly, the sugar drop dreams of my childhood."

Why was I being so candid with this man? My eyes narrowed as his brows furrowed. He must have a secret ability to draw things from people. My Sept had referred to it as _charm_. Which was an absolutely disturbing realization.

"You are a strong woman, Lady Stark." I blinked at the open compliment and the startling name. In my heart, I was still poor Willa Frey sitting on the bench in that hidden notch waiting for Corlin to slip away from one of his many sweethearts.

"I think you're mistaken," I whispered, turning my gaze forward again. "Conceding your dreams isn't strong, Lord Greyjoy. It is the weakest thing that I have ever done."

"No," he replied, his gaze unwavering as he yanked at the reigns of his horse. "Sometimes that is the strongest thing that a person can do. Humans aren't meant to live this life without a hope, Lady Stark. It takes a bigger person than I to throw away a part of themselves to give another a happier lot in life."

Before I could blink, he was kicking his horse into a gallop, reaching the front of the procession in a matter of seconds. Something about his words had disturbed me. Perhaps the implication that I had no dreams - no hope. What did I hope for? My mind wandered over it restlessly. I barely spoke a word as Catelyn returned from her trip farther back to speak with the portly man who I had informed us of our departure from the Twins. She had called him… Cassel… Rodrik Cassel. Although I would have to check first before I addressed him again.

Restlessly, my mind roamed around that one burning question. What were my hopes? Robb Stark had won a war on dreams while I had been ferreting away spare time to simply sit and stare out my window.

"Willa Dear." I blinked, startled at the deep ocean of blue I was staring into. Robb Stark. I had been staring at him for a while apparently and he had most certainly caught me. I smug little smirk curled his lips as he eyed me, his head tipping to the side as he wheeled his horse around. I felt like I had just conceded something that I hadn't particularly wanted to.

Reflexively, my hands tightened and I was surprised to feel the sharp shards of the necklace that I had kept from my wedding night. Odd… I had thought that I had taken it off this morning.

"Willa?" Cheeks burning, I turned to Catelyn who had a secretive smile on her lips, her eyes flicking to her son and then quickly back to me. What did that look mean? "We're to stop here for the day."

"Here?" I finally glanced around, startled to see that there was a whole area with tents sets up. How had I missed that? When had that happened? My brows furrowed as they caught on the giant canvased tent in the middle, staked down and already alight with the fire that was blazing inside. It was a large meadow that had clearly been used before because of its apparent closeness to the Kingsroad which led directly to Winterfell.

"It has become safer," Catelyn was saying her eyes alight as they took in the men that were slowly dismounting and taking up strategic positions around the larger tent. "Before the war, a place like this would have been only acceptable perhaps for the Lannisters." A sudden sadness overcame her features and then it was swirling into an odd sort of fury. Had she killed anyone before Jaime Lannister? I wondered suddenly. Her hands looked so delicate, slender and untrained in the ways of a knife.

I had once heard that the Starks were a family of beasts. My brothers used to talk about them like they were mythical beings. Brandon Stark was a heavy topic. At night, when my brothers had been to consumed in their drink to notice my presence, I had listen to my uncle who had been alive for the time of dragons tell tales of the Wild Wolf of Winterfell. It was him who was meant to take the mantle from Rickard Stark. He was better at everything. He rode better. Fought better. Boasted better.

Rendal had even described him as being handsomer. He was a darling at the tourneys with a fiery temper that caused him to waver from the diplomatic duties that his house required. He was more wolf than man, I remembered my uncle whispering like even speaking his name would call him. And some days he just couldn't hide it. It tore out of him in brutal bursts and left the whole room shaking.

He had also mentioned that a lass with flames in her hair had loved him til his final breath.

"Sometimes I wonder where you're head goes to." I blinked suddenly feeling as the woman in front of me gave me a soft, curious smile. Like she was awed by _me_. Little, old me who hadn't lived half the sorrows that she had.

I gave her a smile in return, tugging my horse to a halt at the very edge of the camp beside her. My guards had scattered, staying near but far enough to give me the illusion of solitude. Daintily, Catelyn dismounted her shire mare, somehow keeping her skirts firmly in place. I couldn't seem to shake the fact that this small, gentle woman was handling a beast of that size. It was massive with a stocky flank and a glossy black coat.

Tenderness entered her eyes as she cooed over its muzzle, running her fingers through the mare's long mane. My horse in comparison was miniature with a frailness that only became apparent in the presence of Catelyn's beast of a horse.

"Your eyes get this…" Her brows furrowed. I was trying very hard to situate myself for a graceful dismount. "Sharper. Like you've seen something that no one else can and you're trying to strategize the best route to confront it."

"On the contrary, my lady," I laughed, finally deciding to just get it over with. My legs were shaking already so there would be no hope for a regal descent. "I've found that my rashness is my biggest downfall."

"Oh, my dear!" Her laughter was ringing like the morning song of birds. "I married into foolhardiness. My baby Bran was my only sanctuary. Always quiet. Always so… considering."

I tried not to yelp as I forced myself up and out of the saddle, scrambling at the leather as my skirts caught and my legs gave out on me. I was falling. I was going to land on my rump right in front of the whole of the Stark company.

I closed my eyes and completely let go, accepting my fate with a dread that was bone-deep.

"Darling Willa." It was a smooth rumble followed by strong arms that yanked me against a hard chest. I gasped, staring up into the downturned face of my husband as he swept me closer to him with a hand around my waist and under my knees. He was strong and it was that strength that made me dizzy with a sort of wonder.

My cheeks burned as I blinked up into those eyes sparkling with amusement even as his face played at seriousness.

"Y-you-" I scowled, fury at my sudden shyness making my cheeks burn hotter. "Your Grace."

"Ah, the sweet talk so suddenly," he murmured, his words meant only for me. "Don't soften your rage, darling Willa. It doesn't become you."

"Oh, you ass," I hissed, glaring up at him as my fingers curled into the fur of his cloak.

"There it is." He was smirking again, an errant auburn curl falling into his eyes.

"You're infuriating," I gritted out, kicking my feet in an effort to shake him. He held as still as a tree, an eyebrow-raising as if he was unimpressed. "Let me down."

"Will you be able to walk?"

"Of course I will, you caveman. I'm not some frail, little kitten."

"Ah, that's what you resemble. I was trying to think-"

"I am far from a kitten, you brute."

"Names hurt, kitten."

"You-" I couldn't think of anything wretched enough to call him. I was nearly spitting with fury. "Let me down."

"Ask me nicely." His teeth flashed as he let a full grin lose, his head craning closer to mine.

"Or I could simply punch you in your arrogant face," I snarled back, giving a yank at the collar of his furs.

"In front of all these people?" His eyebrows raised as if he were astonished at my gaul. Unwanted, I glanced around and quickly blanched. Catelyn was making an admirable attempt at acting like she wasn't paying attention as she went through the methodical steps for unsaddling her mare and grooming her but a secretive smile gave her away along with a few discreet glances. It was far better than the out-and-out stares that the rest of the company was currently giving me. Even his damn direwolf had plopped himself a few feet away, his head tilted as he eyed us.

I snapped back to stare up at him, mouth thinning before I gritted out, "Please… Will you let me down, my king?"

I wanted to slap that arrogant look right off his face. "A kiss would be acceptable as well."

I let out a snarl, jumping as his direwolf gave a bark in reply. I was sorely outnumbered. Curling my hands into his nape, I yanked him down to smack a kiss to his lips before crossing my arms and glowering up at him.

I hated this man.

A gasp caught in my throat as my heart gave a little jerk. Slowly, his tongue swept over his lips, his eyes holding mine in a hooded stare as he gently let my feet touch the ground, an arm keeping me loosely to his chest. I couldn't look away. Why did it feel so hot?

"It's interesting when you act like a proper lady for the benefit of my people," he murmured, his eyes still holding that darkness as they drifted down to my lips. Dumbly, I blinked up at him. An odd fire curling around my core, making my skin itch with need - a need to tug him down again and bite his lip. I blinked, reeling at the confusing new urge.

"I am a lady." Far from sounding strong, my words came out breathless, my hands splayed across the strong expanse of his chest.

Sparks flared in his eyes, his head tipping farther down as his nose brushed mine.

"No," he breathed, his words hot on my lips. "You are my wife."

"The lady," I clarified, staring intently at those lips so close to mine.

"The wife of a wolf is never a lady." He left me with only a knowing smirk, my hands still extended mid-air. I was clutching at… nothing. Nothing but that bastards shadow as he sauntered away, his direwolf loping to join him as a few men slowly collected around him.

It was utterly humiliating. Turning, I gulped down a breath. And then another as I caught Catelyn's laughing eyes over the flank of her horse. Even that mare seemed to eye me, its eyes sympathetic. Humiliating didn't seem an adequate word to how much I wanted to sink into the grass.

Trying desperately to seem like the Queen that I had just become, I straightened my back, determined to make the long trudge to my tent in regal silence. I was able to make to steps before I stumbled, my legs unfairly frail.

"Lady Stark." I turned at Catelyn's voice, surprised to see her hand her reigns and also my horses to a young boy who was trying to discreetly eye me. Smiling almost apologetically, she rushed over. "Would you like to know where you will be staying?"

I faced a faltering smile, taking the arm that she extended gratefully. Slowly, almost as if she knew the pain that I was silently enduring, Catelyn and I wove our way past bustling tents with men and fire pits that already had animals roasting.

"Do you have any siblings?" Almost as if realizing that her question might be a bit ludicrous, Lady Stark closed her eyes. "That was a stupid question."

I was simply grateful for any sort of distract from the events of earlier. Smiling, I squeezed her arms. "I have one brother by the same mother. Many of the servants thought we were twins, for how alike we were."

"Was he very popular?" It was a wonder that she hadn't met… Well, I assumed that she hadn't needed to meet my brothers at all. They were there more for the female Freys.

"No." I gave a laugh as I recalled how revolted he had seemed when a girl had baked him tarts and then ran a hand along his face. "He took few women and was rather faithful to them. Perhaps it was his own brand of cruelty."

Catelyn blinked, looking astonished. "Cruelty?"

"When someone only looks at you - comes to you everyday and seems so… adamant in his pursuit -" I sighed, remembering the year that the garden had suddenly been filled with weeping girls - month after month, one after another as if that spot was the only one where Corlin could accurately describe to them how his feelings had faded. How he had moved on but that their time together had been enjoyable. "He would break them so easily. Like a child who had played with a toy and grown tired of its appearance. He would court them - for so long on so many occasions that our father was worried of marriage more than once - and then just… leave. Isn't that a form of cruelty if ever there were one?"

My brows furrowed as I recalled his bowed head, the way that he had rubbed at his neck almost brutally. He would always end up in my room, his head coming to rest on my shoulders. Within an hour he would be past it. It boggled my mind.

"You must have been quite the pair," she murmured.

Before I could question her on what she meant, we were stopping. I blinked, up, up, up. We were indeed in front of the largest tent in the camp. It's framing was of sturdy wood, it's cover made of thick hide of some sort - maybe an oiled canvas, I could not tell. Guards on either sides, pulled the flaps back for us, revealing a long table with a withered map on it, candles flickering on stands all around it.

I frowned as I caught sight of the auburn curls that were unmistakably my husbands. Men crowded around that table, staring intently at the roads and water that made up the planes of the North. I supposed that they were discussing our continued route to Winterfell.

Eyes raised as Catelyn and I stepped into the room, a small, polite smile playing on the lips of the former and she curtsied.

It was odd - this sudden power, I mused as I met each gaze head-on. I would never need to bow to another man in my life. My eyes connected with the darkness of my husbands, narrowing. I refrained from openly sneering, instead adopting a quiet contentment that belied the roiling emotions inside of me. I would have like to flounce across this room and give him a good slap.

Instead, I chose to bow my head slightly, following silently after Catelyn. I could feel his gaze, hooded and unwavering until we slid behind a curtain that divided the room into two equal parts. It hid a fur-covered bed big enough for four with pelts that carpeted the floor. A basin sat to the side atop a vanity large enough to encompass a good portion of the space. It was simple with a trunk at the foot of the bed that surely held a mixture of clothes.

"This will be your space for the night," she said, gesturing to the area. "I don't know how long we will remain here - perhaps a single day or maybe a week. It all depends on what Robb deems fit." Her usual soft smile was in place as she gazed at me. "I know that these last days were hard. You can rest now. There are no meetings or duties that you must attend to."

I didn't let out my sigh of relief until she had made her departure. Through the curtain that separated me from the rest of the room, I could see the flicker of candles along with the shadows of the men on the other side along with their droning voices. I resisted a warier sigh that was building in my throat, my joints groaning as I reached back to undo my corset.

Fumbling, I dully realized that I had had a maid help me into it this morning. At that moment, I felt like bursting into tears. I would have to sleep in this god awful thing. My eyes drifted to the bed as a bone-deep tiredness crashed heavily into me.

But sleep, I would.

Dragging myself to it, I crashed down, barely able to roll a series of pillows and blankets into a barricade beside me before sleep overcame me.

* * *

"Kitten." I blinked groggily into a consuming darkness, mumbling as hands - big and strong and so _gentle_ \- tenderly rolled me to my side. _Robb_. I groaned, still drunk from sleep and craving more as fingers traced along my cheek. "You were sleeping in your corset and stockings, kitten."

"I couldn't get 'em off," I mumbled, nearly weeping as my sides throbbed sweetly at the lack of bone whaling digging into my hips and breasts. My whole body ached with tiredness. Mumbling, I reached out a hand to pat his stubbled cheek before waving it to the mountain of fabric separating me from the rest of the bed. "You - on the other side."

Dark brows raised incredulously. "You've segregated me to the other side of the bed."

"Yes," I said simply, before yawning and turning to snuggle deeper into the bed. Being without a corset and stockings felt glorious. "You're dangerous."

I was asleep within seconds.

* * *

_If you like my story please leave a comment and a kudos! It would make my night!_


	9. In Bloom

" _I am the sun and the darkness. I am the sea and the storm. I bring the rain and with my wrath, raise the flowers from their slumber." Her lips are soft against my temple. I blink. Why was she always so beautiful? It was blinding. "With my voice I bring silence. Inside of the deep caverns of my body resides a spring so still that Chaos cannot enter."_

" _Chaos," I repeat, wondering what that word means but also why I had to take after my father instead of my mother. Corlin would stop saying that I looked like the gardener's daughter if I was like her. Irreverent, I reached to run a hand along her slim, sharp nose. The maids said that she looked regal. I don't know what that word means either. "What does reg-gel mean, Mama?"_

_Her eyes close slowly like they always do when I say something that isn't directly in line with what was being said before. Then her lips curled into that secret smile that I was sure was all mine. Corlin didn't own this smile. Father didn't own it either. Only me._

" _Chaos," she whispered, rubbing the oils from a blackthorn's leaves into my fingers. To ward away the forceful, she had told me after I had made a fuss about the bitter smell. "She takes too much when she arrives and when she leaves… I've seen ghosts with brighter souls than her. You will not let her in. You are too strong to bow to someone who takes so much." Softly, her breath brushed my ear as she leaned closer. Corlin didn't receive these secrets. My fingers knotted around her, desperate for this part of her life. "My little dove… I fear that I won't be here to teach you… You will remember me, won't you? You'll remember_ who _you are?_ What _you are?"_

" _Special." I worked my mouth around the word, simply boggled at the variety of things she was saying._

" _Yes," she cooed, tucking a strand of wild hair behind my ear. I loved it when she looked at me like that. That's why I did so many tricks for her. That's what she called them. Tricks. Father didn't like tricks though. Mama told me to never show him or else he would be angry. He wouldn't like to see flowers bloom in the middle of winter or the first drizzle when the clouds didn't want to give any. "You are special. But for now… For now, Willa my darling, darling girl, you need to forget."_

" _Forget?" I whispered back, watching as tears seeped from her clear blue eyes and she took a deep, gulping breath._

" _You can do that for me, darling? Forget?"_

_I blinked, then considered, staring hard at my hands which were wrapped into her. Mama never asked me for anything. Forget? I didn't really know what that word meant anyway. So… what would I lose? I nodded gingerly, watching as more tears fell. Gently, her forehead touched mine._

" _Three times the rings go round." I counted with her as her thumb traced slow circles along my cheek. "Crack the crown and lose what was found. Set wrong what was right to let the ocean calm. I set the gifts of my daughter in your palm. So it shall be as I have wished it."_

" _Three times," we whispered together. And then… I blinked._

" _Mama?" She was crying. "Mama please don't cry." I couldn't remember..._

"Mama," I gasped, chilled as I jolted up in… I shivered, glancing wildly around. Where..? Oh. I shivered again, this time due to the lack of blankets that were around me. Unsettled, I curled into the shelter of sheets at my back, all too aware that Robb snored softly on the other side of a moat of fabric.

I fell asleep staring into the darkness of a corner, thinking about a dream.

And how it felt more like a memory.

Something was brushing along my thigh. It felt good. It felt weighty and warm and like… like someone's hand. I blinked, my mouth catching on warm skin as I tilted my head up. Distantly, I heard the crackle of a fire, it's last embers casting the room in dim light. It was those lights that made the bold, strong lines of Robb's face seem softer. In wakefulness, he was hard. Like there was a rabid animal that was barely leashed inside him.

Unwanted, I touched my hand along the bare, hard planes of his stomach, the wiry hair there tickling my fingers. Sometimes I could see it - prowling behind the dark civility.

Slowly, keeping my eyes firmly fastened to his sleepy face, I lowered my face until I could feel the beat of his heart against my cheek. Was it a sort of madness to find peace in a man that was surely a monster? For without question, he was. It took a monster to kill a monster.

Dimly, I caught the gentle roll of grey fur. Robb's direwolf was sleeping as soundly as his master beside the fire. A low groan rolled suddenly from the depths of my husband, his hand contracting on the skin of my thigh. It was nice against Robb and… I closed my eyes. He was a good man. Without the glare of morning and the weight of responsibility bogging me down, I could admit it to myself. Would it be so bad to give a little? To let him in a bit more?

Another groan rolled from the depths of his chest, his hand spasming again, his nails digging into the skin there a bit. Hissing at the sting, I jerked up to stare at his face, watching as his brows furrowed and he let out something between a whimper and a growl.

"Robb?" Something was wrong. I searched the hard ridges of his face, the glimmer of sweat along his brows, dampening the curls at his temples. Gulping, I leaned closer, pressing a hand to his cheek. "Robb?"

Something shivered through him as I ran a thumb along the sharp rise of his cheekbone, his brow suddenly smoothing. A knot that I hadn't realized had formed in the pit of my stomach loosened. Why was I so worried about a bad dream? He was a man. He could handle it. Letting out a huff of irritation, I yanked my hand away as his other arm curled around my waist, dragging me further on top of him.

"Talisa." I blinked, something cold and sharp ripping through my chest. _Who..?_ Confused, I pulled away, his arms fighting for a moment before he released me with a groan. _Who was Talisa?_ Bitterly, my brain rebelled against me as I stared down at the sleeping face of my husband. _You ignorant little girl,_ it hissed _. Did you think that he didn't have a lover before you? Wasn't that what all your sisters whispered about?_ Then an even wickeder part of me chimed in. _Did you think he loved you? Because he whispered to you and looked at you? He has someone to fuck every night now,_ little wife _. Why bother with the rest at first when he still needs to sire an heir?_

Dazed, I shifted away, tangling momentarily in the covers that still divided the bed before I finally slumped into my pillows. I had crawled across the space between us in my sleep. Like a fool. I was nothing. I was the little Frey girl that he had been obligated to marry over darling _Talisa_. He needed to win a war and I was the cost.

Foolish, dreaming girl. Wetness seeped into the fabric under my head, a deep well of sadness crashing down on me so hard that I had to curl in on myself so that I could break quietly. Why did this hurt so much?

"You're bleeding." In the mirror, my reflection was grey, my skin ashen and splotched and my hair limp. Or limper than it usually was, like even the frizzy mess there, had been sapped of all life.

Robb's reflection caught in the mirror as well, just at the corner. So close that I could feel the heat of his body against my side. I discreetly edged away from it.

He was right. I had bit my lips so hard last night that they were a bloody mess, swollen and crusted.

"I must have bitten them while I was asleep," I whispered, dipping my eyes to the still water in the basin at the edge of the vanity before his eyes could catch mine.

"Do Frey's usually maim themselves in their sleep?" I caught the mocking tilt of his smirk in the mirror, meeting his playful gaze dead on. Why was that small thing so painful?

"Just me, your grace," I murmured, rubbing a hand along the creased front of my dress.

Why did everything hurt so much?

I could feel his gaze running along my shoulders, down my back. "We'll be leaving today."

I could feel the strategic way that he was trying to approach me like broking new topics might show some weakness. At the moment, I frankly didn't have any energy to play along. It wasn't like I was already defeated. More like I was sitting after a long battle that I had lost, my army drawing back to barricade the walls.

He understood war. Perhaps, now that I was married to him, I did as well.

"Very well, your grace," I murmured, turning to close the trunk at the base of our bed. Taking a breath, I straightened, meeting his gaze for a moment before lowering them. "I will go and find your mother to see if I might assist in our departure."

Quickly, I tried to skirt around the room to the exit but big hands circled my waist, pulling me back until my chest was crushed to his. He was big. Every time that he touched me, that fact was reinforced. A tidal wave of emotions crashed down on me, confusing, bitter emotions battling against each other.

"I was hoping that you might grace me with a kiss before you leave." His eyes were searching as they pierced into me, his brows furrowing a bit, his smile sharp. Something in my stomach rolled, a deep heat searing along my throat as I stared up at him.

There was a challenge there. Like he was waiting, his eyes watchful like some wild animal that had seen prey wandering by and was stalking, analyzing. He wanted me to fight back.

I gulped, unwanted feelings bubbling in my gut. I wanted to fight back. Holding me this close, his arms wrapped around my waist, I wanted… I wanted so much.

"Of course, your grace," I whispered, my hands clutching at the material of his shirt as I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

Everything about him made me ache.

But more than that his presence hurt.

I jerked away from him, gasping as I wiggled my way free from his grasp. Did he kiss her like this before he came to the Twins? Robb's eyes burned into mine, the greys swirling darkly as he took in a deep breath, his hands still outstretched. My stomach rolled sickly, bile pushing into the back of my throat. Did he have her in his bed when he was _in_ the Twins?

My eyes burned, my skin crawling. I needed to get out of this room. With _him_.

"Your mother might need help," I choked out, curtsying clumsily before I rushed from the tent. I couldn't look into those eyes any longer. I couldn't pretend like I would be anything more than I actually was. I was a _fool_.

"Your Highness." Blindly, I whipped around the tent, ignoring the guards as I veered sharply right. I didn't know where I was going.

My fingertips ripped open as I sprinted into the forest beyond, my skin catching on the bark of a tree. I was panting, winded by the time that I stopped, something deep inside of me ripping open as I finally looked around. What was I doing?

My head gave a sharp throb, sending me to my knees.

" _Witch," someone hissed to my right, jostling me into the dirty rags of a woman on my left. Up ahead, I caught the glistening blue of my mother's skirts. "They should burn her at the stake."_

" _Corlin," I whimpered, tears blurring my vision as I turned, trying to fight my way through the crowd._

"Corlin!" I screamed, my nails digging into the soil beneath me as another strand came loose in my chest. I let out a sob, tears forcing their way from my swollen eyes.

Something was wrong. Something was tearing open inside of me. Worse than the open wound from that one word uttered by Robb last night. Pain blurred my vision.

" _She speaks to the moon." I scuttled back into the shadows of the servant's halls, watching as two maids hauled dirty sheets from the guest rooms. "I've seen her whispering over her victims."_

" _They're her patients," the second maid whispered incredulously._

" _No one recovers from the brink of death with chamomile tea and prayer," she scoffed back and I shivered, turning to stare up at my mother as she moved to stand silently beside me. Her face had gone vacant again, her face slack. Like a ghost that was moving among the living._

" _You shouldn't speak of things that you don't understand," the maid snipped, dragging her bundle of soiled cloth into her basket before swishing away._

" _Mama," I whimpered, tugging at her skirts as she swayed, her face still blank._

_A scream pierced through the hall, sending me reeling. The maid. I gagged. Blood. And my mother, staring at the mangled meat of the maid's leg, her agonized screams rising and falling to fill the room._

I blinked, sobbing. I wanted this to end. I didn't want to remember anymore.

I whimpered, curling into myself as I caught the flash of a million blue flowers, a few still unfurling at the root of every tree. Up above, the crows gave a harsh caw, fluttering away.

These flowers hadn't been here before.

I turned to the side, vomiting up water and spittle.

_What was happening to me?_


	10. Even Castles Must Burn

It was Robb's direwolf that found me, still crumpled into an exhausted heap in the crook of a tree trunk. Slowly, the wind picked at the periwinkle petals clustered together at the base of every trunk, each cluster dripping into the clearing with a weed-like persistence.

"Has your master sent you?" I whispered, not turning as the giant beast loped through the trees, it's head lowered, eyes intent on me. I should have felt hunted. Instead I felt...nothing. I blinked. Hadn't I longed to feel just that since I was young? Now… somehow that was worse than the sadness.

My eyes tore from the bundle of buds that were blooming, opening rapidly as they reached for the sun. Was I a monster? Did this abnormality make me some kind of… I shivered, staring into the striking amber of Grey Wind's eyes. Slowly my eyes moved down the muscled shoulders to the thick claws that dug into the soil beneath his paws. The crows had told us of the way that those claws had shredded through the Lannisters. My eyes drifted to the soft muzzle, closed over the razor teeth that I knew were concealed just beneath. While his master had eaten the hearts, they said that Grey Wind had torn them out, delivering them in heaps at Robb's feet.

"No," I murmured, blinking against the stark image, my mouth suddenly dry. Brows furrowed, I turned my head to the sky, watching as the clouds rolled over the sun. "Robb has too many things to think of to worry about his wayward wife."

I kept my hands firmly to myself as Grey Wind tipped his head down, his eyes burning as they studied me. There was an intelligence there that matched his behemoth size. He would be taller than me on his hind legs, corded with muscle with a jaw that could tear a grown man in half. In fact, the crows had given that exact news. Involuntarily, I jerked as a loud thump and a cloud of dirt signaled that the direwolf had plopped himself to sit opposite me.

"Have you ever heard the tale of the little girl and the rabbit?" Why was I talking? More importantly, why was I talking to a direwolf by the Seven? "Well, in a small, inconsequential village there was a little girl. Her mama and papa all knew that she would grow to be a great beauty. As did the butcher, the huntsman, the blacksmith and all the little boys who chased her around with mud and taunts. Her mama and papa were neither poor nor rich and saw great profit in giving the little girl everything she desired, sure that their gifts would keep the rosy glow to her cheeks and the secretive tilt to her lips."

Grey Wind's ears had flattened, his eyes widening as if he was suddenly aware that his presence would encourage me to continue speaking. I looked at him sidelong.

"Soon, even the little girl knew of her own beauty - although as fate always has it, she was the last to find out. Every day she would look into her vanity and stare and stare. Eventually she went to her mother and asked her: _Mama, why does my hair look like the fleece of that rabbit that papa brought home last night?_ The people of her village had been warned against hunting the rabbits in the wood but still every once and a while her papa would bring one home. Her mama replied with a laugh. _Why because you are beautiful, my love!_ Can you believe that?" I snorted, sudden indignant tears jumping to my eyes. " _One day_ , her mama continued. _You will see. You will see what this whole village sees._ And although the little girl could not yet fully see it, she nodded and went back to her vanity."

Grey Wind's eyes were now darting around the clearing, almost begrudgingly. "Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into years and eventually the little girl wasn't so little anymore. Every day she would look into her vanity mirror and she would whisper, though my hair is soft as rabbit fleece and my skin the color of moonlight dew, I still will search for something in life that is just as beautiful as you. And she would clasp a hand to her chest."

I snorted. "Yes, Grey Wind. She was just as beautiful inside as she was outside. And eventually a prince -" I scoffed, spitting out the next word like it was make believe. "Prince - came to the village and met the little girl who wasn't so little anymore. He wooed her with roses as white as the strands of her hair, crystals the same blue as her eyes and eventually - in his adare he slew a hundred rabbits and skinned them for their pelts, lining the walls of her room with their furs.

" _I have given you everything_ , the prince declared, winded and tired from his long hunt in the deep, dark of the forest that the girl lived in. _Every plant, every animal, every single drop of moonlight does not compare to your beauty, my princess - for surely, you are as ethereal as any princess that I have beheld. Will you not take me to be your husband?_ "

I picked at the blades of grass, prickling my fingers. There was something calming in the act of speaking the old tale. Something that made all of… _this_ seem bearable.

"Who was she to say no? On their wedding day, she fashioned a dress from the pelts of those hundred rabbits and everyone cooed over her beauty as she made her way down the aisle." I paused, my brows furrowing as I recalled the way that my Septs had routinely stopped at this part. "Suddenly-" Grey Wind's ears perked at the sudden softening of my voice, his eyes deep and sad like he understood something beneath the base words of what I was saying. "Suddenly, a crone dressed in the moss of the forest stood at the back of the church. _My children,_ she whispered. _My children…_ Grass began to grow along the walls, webbing out from where she stood. Water leaked from her eyes but it was not tears like any that a mortal would cry. With it was the echo of rain showers hitting the canopy of trees and puddling in rocks, filling streams that fed lakes that fed rivers.

" _You wear my children like a coat,_ the crone wailed, her words shuddering through the crowd and into the very heart of the girl who felt very little indeed. Beside her, the prince cowered. _There bodies forsaken and rotting while their skin - their beautiful skin sits atop your mortal flesh._ "

At this Grey Wind whimpered, the sound deep and rumbling.

" _I have no more children_ , the crone whispered, shaking. Jarred the little girl begged, feeling the sorrow of the crone for she was just as beautiful inside as she was outside. Right? _No_ , the crone whispered suddenly stilling. _No, you do not for you are but a pretty little girl playing at the sympathy of a woman. But you will._

"Roots and vines began to grow all along the church, sending all the patrons screaming as the very foundation cracked. Rain poured from the ceiling, moss growing in every crack and crevice. And when everything stilled the prince was clutching a white rabbit to his chest. And where the crone stood was a thicket of wildflowers."

All around me, the forest had seemed to go silent. Grey Wind had stopped fidgeting, his eyes intently on me. But I had no more to say. Slowly, bones creaking, I unfolded myself from the base of the tree and stood, dusting off the dirt from my dress. I didn't speak a word as I silently made my way through the tangle of roots back to the outskirts of the camp which was methodically being dismantled. It was a warm kind of bustled, accompanied with the yells of men. Warily, I rubbed a finger along my temples.

"You know that that wolf tore a million men into dog bits on the battlefield when the war raged." I glanced to my left at the gruff voice, masking the deep roll of unease that went through me with a bored sort of politeness. It was a beefy man with a full salt and pepper beard, his clothes suggesting at an advisor more than a soldier.

I absolutely despised men that tried to scare full grown women like they were wee children.

I let a savage smile loose, watching as the laughter drained from his face. "Ah. So that's why we get along so well."

I took a risk by turning my back to him, straightening my spine until my stomach gave a gurgle of protest. Dropping the smile, I prayed desperately that Grey Wind followed behind me as I made my way slowly through the quickly decomposing camp. Already, more than half the tents had been brought down and packed away. Most of the people still left in the camp were lower level squires and servants. Foot soldiers who either scampered away from the sight of me or groveled as I made my way past.

A cluster of horses caught my attention, the party obviously of importance by the lingering of servants at a callable distance.

"What do you mean you haven't seen her?" I blinked at the vicious growl, skirting around the muzzle of a horse and bursting unceremoniously into the midst of a very exclusive party.

"My Queen," a dozen voices murmured, sinking into a variety of bows. And at the center… I drew in a quick breath at the storm that rolled over Robb's face, his eyes flashing as they caught mine.

"Rise," I whispered, barely getting the words out before Robb's hand was enclosing around my elbow, dragging me from the circle of his advisors and a safe distance away.

"Where were you?" he growled, his voice low but thunderous as he stared down at me. Bitterness spiked through me, a childish voice piping up in retaliation. He didn't get to act all high and mighty when - when he was still in love with another woman. Spiteful anger ran through me, completely irrational and more than a little bit unwarranted.

"I am not your dog," I hissed, shoving at his chest which only caused him to crowd me more, his bulk looming all around me as he leaned in closer. "I will not come running at your every little whistle."

"No, my love," he snarled and I blinked, struck dumb for a moment at his words. "I could never make the almighty Willa Frey of the Twins answer to my call. I would never lower myself to such a ludicrous fairy tale. What I would count on would be your common sense - that quick wit that I know is smart enough to understand that when a Queen goes missing for a full hour, people will talk."

I blinked, swallowing my own words as I spluttered. I honestly hadn't realized that I had been gone for an hour. It had felt like only a moment or two. But there was no way that I could tell him what had been happening. My hands clenched, a sickening dread rolling through me as I pictured the mask of disgust that would shudder down on his face if I told him what had happened. I blinked quickly. What I was slowly realizing I was.

Suddenly, Robb's hand slammed into the tree behind me, errant curls falling into his eyes as he stared down at me.

"Tell me you weren't in those woods with anyone," he whispered. Those words hit me squarely in the stomach, knocking all of the wind out of my lungs.

"Wh-what?" I breathed, blinking up into his stormy eyes, his brows furrowing further as his frown deepened. "Are you - are you being serious?"

"Were you?" The way that he said it seemed more like a dare than a question. Something inside of me blew up, like his words were all I needed to spark the fuse that was attached to my short barrier of decorum.

"Oh, yes, my husband," I purred, my whole body seeming to compress in on itself like a snake that was coiling to get more distance before it sprang. My eyes narrowed in on his face as I poked a finger harshly into his chest, his eyes snapping to that, lighting with barely contained fury. "You caught me. I was just traipsing off with one of the many eligible gentleman around. Want to make a game of it? Was it the bulbous grandfather who feeds the horses or one of the scared little boys taking down the tents? GUESS! OR PERHAPS! Perhaps I'm such a vindictive, little viper that I took to bed your very own ward."

A low growl rolled from the depths of Robb, his teeth flashing as he leaned in closer, his nose brushing against mine. "Don't bring things into this conversation that you don't want to deal with."

"How dare you?!" I whispered, shoving at his chest only to get him hovering over me closer. "How dare you make it seem-"

"Like you had been missing from the camp for an hour with no one that knew where you were?"

That was it!

"Who's Talisa?" I blinked. He blinked. Why had I said that? I meant to say - Something. Anything but that.

He looked like he had had the very breath knocked from him. A deep sort of sadness entered his eyes, his hand abruptly dropping from it's place above my head as he took a step back.

"How do you know who that is?"

Pain lashed through my chest, momentarily silencing me with it's viciousness. It was worse hearing it like that. Like a dirty little secret that he didn't want me to know. I squared my shoulders, blinking down at the ground for a moment before I forced my gaze to his again. He wasn't mine. He was a man and he could have his own secrets. He wasn't mine at all.

"Don't pretend like this union is anything more than a way for you to ensure your war as well as your line," I said, taking a step away from him.

I didn't want to say anymore. I didn't even want to look at him any longer. Keeping my gaze firmly on the bark of a nearby tree, I dipped into a curtsy. "Your Grace."

Would he let me walk away? Was it worse that I so desperately wanted him to stop me? Firmly, I lifted my skirts, stepping around the muck of the horses and making my way to the middle of the entourage.

"You've angered, Robb." Theon swaggered into my path, his arms lightly folded across his chest and that same, self-satisfied smirk on his lips. There was a seriousness to his gaze that seemed to bely that though when they flicked to just over my shoulder.

By the tingling heat that was still sizzling along my neck, I knew that Robb was still there. My heart gave an irrational squeeze at the thought, my whole body rebelling against the way that I could sense his very presence. Just one moment where I couldn't sense that man would be a blessing.

Theon's grin grew as his eyes snapped back to mine and he swiftly bent into a bow, his hand firmly clasping mine and dragging it to his lips. I resisted the urge to snarl as his eyes drifted back up to blink up at me from below his lashes. "My Queen."

"I grow tired of your games, Lord Greyjoy," I growled, yanking my hand from his grasp and stepping around him. Did he think that his flirtations were anything other than an irritation? It was a form of fooley that I wasn't willing to indulge him in.

"Ah, but they are fun aren't they?" He mused and I was remiss to hear him trampling along behind me as I tried desperately to find my mare from the day before among the long line gathered on the outskirts of the camp. It seems that the squires had rounded them all up and put them in their proper spot. "Robb hasn't been speaking to me much as of late and this is surely a way to open up the channels once more."

"I can't even imagine why anyone would want to avoid your company," I snipped, examining a golden mare that's coat almost seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.

"A mystery," Theon agreed and I sneered as I almost bumped into him in my haste to continue on with the search for my horse. "That was Lord Nyse's mare. You might want to recall his name."

"I'm sorry?" I stopped, seething as I whipped around to glare up at him. "What exactly are you trying to imply?"

Many a man had tried to control a woman by surrounding them with baudy, little pawns. I would not be a chess piece, caged to the back of the board.

Slowly, Theon's hands raised in mock surrender but that smirk was still there. "No implications, my lady. I was merely suggesting-"

"Let me make myself abundantly clear, Lord Theon Greyjoy," I whispered, drawing nearer so that I could be sure that my words would only be heard by him. "I do not require your assistance in the department of friendship or alliances. When I decide to build up my court, you will neither be an advisor nor privy to those decisions." I moved even closer, noting the slight intake of breath as I made sure that these last words effectively made it to his brain. "When I say that I am the Queen, I mean that the members of my court will not be faudered about like prized pigs for the slaughter. I mean, that if need be, my lambs will rip the wolves at the gate apart and leave the carcasses to rot while my husband sits secure. What I mean is that if a single person steps above his own aspirations in search of a crown, I'll quietly show him one six feet under my throne." I pulled back, blinking sweetly up at him. My eyes narrowed as I saw his adam's apple bob. "Do we understand each other?"

His smirk was gone.

"Lady Stark." I turned, done with the conversation to catch Catelyn dip into a deep curtsy, her striking eyes flicking between Theon and myself. Her eyes hardened on me as she seemed to force a smile. "I heard that you had quite the excursion this morning."

I resisted the urge to groan, already tired from the unwelcome conversation ahead. A mother with a wounded son was never an easy obstacle to overcome. Still, I stepped forward to join her as she seemed to search out her own horse as well.

"May I suggest something?" I blinked, glancing sidelong at Catelyn as I registered the hesitance in her voice. But that didn't seem to be what I should judge the conversation on. If anything, the blaze beneath the facade of calm in her eyes made a certain degree of dread pump through my veins. She didn't wait for me to answer. "I learned a long time ago that sometimes what something looks like isn't what it actually is. The world doesn't come in one shade. So when I see the rain it isn't just the rain, it's the crops and the rivers and the water that we drink and bathe in." She gave me a tentative smile. "But your world is. As of this moment, there are only two ways that this world works. And all of them depend on the image that you present. So what something looks to be will always be what it truly is." Her hand reached out to squeeze mine, her smile falling as she stared intently into my eyes. "It doesn't matter what the explanation is anymore. It only matters how it looks."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying desperately to force down the wave of shame. I had been selfish and ignorant to assume that I was still the girl that was able to wander off wherever she pleased. I was not at home. I was not even a girl anymore.

She gave me one final squeeze before nodding silently to a great beast chewing at the grass at his hooves before leaving me to join her own animal. I stewed. That was the best word for it. I stood and stared at the corded muscles in my mare's back, trying desperately to right the topsy turvy mess that my life had become. And the bald shame that threatened me. I wanted it to be easy. I wanted someone to tell me that Robb was an ass and that he was still in love with this Talisa and that he was using me. Having it put so simply would have made it so much easier to digest.

But I supposed that it was the exact reason that it wasn't simple and that made my lips twist, my hands tremble as they grasped at the harness and I hefted myself into the saddle.

I wanted all the mixed confusing emotions to untangle and for there to be some sort of calm that I could grasp onto. But at the moment, it felt like even the forest had walls and that they were pressing down on me with each step that my horse made following steadily along behind the rest of the procession.

"Halt!" someone up ahead bellowed and my horse gave a tiny whiny of protest as I yanked at the reigns a bit too harshly. The distant sound of hooves beating along soiled reached my ears along with the almost instant reply of swords scraping free from their leather confines.

Even the forest seemed to tense as the rider drew closer. My mind narrowed down, working quickly. If it was an ambush than they were fools. With so many men and women, they would be outnumbered. The rider broke free of the line of the trees, swerving wildly.

"READY! AT YOUR POSTS!" Something inside of me seized in panic. They weren't going to try and stop him first? A tangle of unkept hair whipped in the wind and I gasped, watching as the head of the rider tipped back, revealing wide green eyes and full lips. A girl. Just a little girl.

Everything went slower, the strain of bows being drawn almost too loud as I whipped around, a cry catching in my throat. She was just a girl. The soldier beside me, strained, his brows drawing and lips tightening as I reached for him - Trying - What was I trying?

"FIRE!"

Fire.

I screamed, the volume seeming suddenly to turn from a five to a ten. Everything was on fire and I was - I was falling, my horse giving a terrible scream of its own as she bucked, tossing me from her back as if I was nothing more than a sack filled with clothes.

I hit the ground hard, wheezing as air left my lunges in one great whoosh. Mud. Dirt. I coughed, still trying to draw in a solid breath even as my lunges and ribs refused to cooperate. Painfully I rolled, blinking around as another burst of pure fire and destruction from my right sent my whole body careening. I felt like a ragdoll being tossed about on a giant chess board.

Star burst across my vision, a painful ringing filling my ears as I struggled to my knees, fighting against the urge to vomit. Across from me, the man who I had reached for was sitting slumped beneath the torn carcasses of his horse.

"Sir." Was I speaking? I couldn't - I forced down the panic as I struggled toward him, my hands connecting with the meat of his hands. But no. I jerked away, gasping at the blank stare of his eyes, the giant piece of his side that was missing, the blood and intestines spilling onto the forest floor beneath him.

"WILLA!" Robb. I struggled to turn, tears pricking my vision as I searched desperately for him.

But all I could see was the mass of men and women - their legs running this way and that and the fire - encroaching on all sides with its blinding smoke. A whimper rolled from somewhere deep inside of me. _Weak_ , a voice in the back of my brain seethed.

And then there was just one set of legs, thick as tree trunks, clad in shabby, ripped trousers tucked into sturdy leather boots.

"You're nothing but a bit of a lass." I flinched, my eyes snapping to meet the hungry depths of the man's eyes. They were bottomless, a scar running jaggedly from his shaved scalp to his jaw in a wicked gash that pulled the skin from his eye back and away. He crouched and I resisted the urge to flinch away as his eyes roamed freely along my chest.

My mind suddenly snapped back into itself, something wicked and quick coming together. There had been too many men and women for an ambush to be anything but a fool's errand. A suicide mission. But a calculated ambush with so many men and women would cause chaos. And that kind of mayhem could only work in favor of one sort of plan. A plan that specifically targeted one person in an entire entourage.

A quick as a snake, a big meating hand curled into my hair yanking my head so violently to the left that my whole body followed swiftly behind. With a yell, I snapped out, my fists trying desperately to connect with any part of this man as tears of pain blinded me.

"Feisty little thing," I heard the man chuckle and then quickly regretted not running while I had the chance as he went down heavily on the ground with me. I let out a choked cry as pain burst through me, gagging on air as his knee drove heavily into my side. I gagged again, as I felt something crunch. He had used all of his momentum of the fall to come down on my ribs. "I just want this to be easy, lass."

Almost gently, his hand came up to stroke along the side of my face. I gave a snarl, lashing out wildly again even as my ribs screamed in protest. I wanted to rip his eyes out and feed them to Grey Wind. Roughly, his meaty paws grappled my hands into one, forcing them above my head.

"Scum," I spat.

In an instant, a blade was out, the tip held lightly against the skin of my neck. "I suppose that if anyone knew what scum was, a Frey would."

I hissed bringing my knee up to jab quickly into his side, causing him to momentarily bring his hand away from my neck. Right within biting distance. My teeth sunk into the delicate skin of his wrist, sending a howl ripping from his lips. Desperately, he released my hands.

My moment of silent victory was quickly sizzled out as his fist connected with my face, sending my brain into a momentary blackout before all of my senses registered pure pain.

"Little bitch!" I flaled wildly, all my senses going into overdrive as his hands pressed down on my windpipe. No. I choked, spitting up as his full weight came down on me. Desperately, my hands searched out, grasping at the grass. Knife. His knife. Tears blurred my vision as his hands tightened even more. I didn't want to die like this. Not beneath this sweaty brute while he forced all the air from me.

Something cold hit my fingers and my hands seized on it. My lunges throbbed, as I gasped. Desperately, I forced every bit of energy into my arm as I swung, arching the knife until it sawed into the depths of his throat. Above me a faint gurgle, bubbled up, the man's fingers loosening as he pressed at the blade embedded in the meat of his throat.

I spluttered, twisting out from under him as I gasped, trying to draw as much air into my burning lunges as possible.

"WILLA!" There weren't many things that I thought I would find more grateful than the sight of Grey Wind bounding through the smoke, his eyes vicious and his snout covered in blood. His side brushed against mine as he passed, a wicked snarl ripping through the air before there was a series of gurgled screams and tearing wet flesh. I didn't turn to see the act, staring into the blaze of smoke and fire.

I could hear the distant cry of men and women now. And the whimper of people who had felt the full impact of each keg exploding.

"Willa." Ah. The one thing that I was so much more grateful to see than Grey Wind.

I blinked up, watching as the imposing figure of Robb sprang through the blaze, his sword drawn and a group of soldiers and advisors hot on his heels. His eyes instantly lit on me, flicking around in that attentive way of his. I caught the darkening there as they darted to the area just behind me, surely catching on the man that Grey Wind was currently turning into ground beef.

Smoothly, he crouched before me, his hands coming forward to cup the side of my face. I shut my eyes, breathing in the tang of blood and metal and sweat and death that still coated him. Somehow that was the thing that broke me. That was the thing that made all of it come crashing down. Would Robb always have this scent to him? Would he always wear it like a second skin?

I sobbed, barely aware of Robb as he shushed me, his sword thumping to the ground beside us as he drew me closer. I cried thinking about the battles that he had endured - one after the other, so relentless. I cried because those battles weren't over and I never knew when they would be. And I also cried because the little girl who had lived quietly in her towers couldn't live there anymore. Being a Stark didn't mean that there was a middle ground that could be traveled. It didn't mean that every skirmish could be avoided by a slick tongue and a ready deal. It meant that steel and secrets spoke louder than anything.

"The lot have been run off, My Lord." I was cradled against Robbs chest, rolled into him like a child, clutching at the front of his cloak. The blood smeared into his chest had seeped into my skin and clothes. Even that I didn't entirely seem to care about. "An ambush attack." The burly man speaking to Robb paused, his eyes flicking quickly to me before he cleared his throat. "They attacked the middle of the procession, using riders at the front and back to draw our attention away-"

"Away from the Queen," he finished, deathly calm hardening his eyes. Slowly, the man nodded. "The whole purpose was to distract long enough to kill her."

"Yes, My King."

"We need to move as far away as possible in a different direction." Catelyn burst from the forest to our left at that moment, looking frazzled. "The Vale is close."

At this, Catelyn froze, her eyes going wide for a moment. "Robb, we can't possibly-"

"It is summer and closer than Winterfell at the moment-"

"With mountains that are far from hospitable in any season-"

"How many are wounded or dead?" His voice was cutting, leaving the men around in silence. "Our food supply was hit. We are now completely exposed to any further attacks."

I let out a cry, hoarse and broken as Robb shifted, my ribs exploding in a cacophony of pain. Robb's eyes instantly snapped to me, his hands steadying me as I tried to readjust, gasping.

"Leave us," Robb whispered, his eyes never leaving me. There was a moment of silence before anyone moved, the group fanning out a distance with their backs to us. Grey Wind had positioned himself protectively at our back.

"He -" I coughed, whimpering as that small action seemed to cause another wave of pain. My voice was hoarse, my throat sore as I tried to find the words. "He landed on my ribs." I whined softly as Robb's hands grasped gently at my sides, his eyes softening at the sound.

"We have to get you to the Vale," he whispered, his eyes darkening dangerously as they caught on the bruises becoming more visible around my neck.

"The mountains-"

"A risk. But returning to our original route will be too much of a danger to the remainder of the party." A curl slipped to his brow and for once I saw his eyes close, his expression growing wary.

"Then we will go to the Vale," I whispered hoarsely after a long pause.

Briefly, his eyes opened to hold my gaze, a unexpected gratitude there that bowled me into silence for a moment. I forced a smile. "Don't worry about me, My King."

The striking grey of his eyes softened to swirling silver, his brows drawing up as he leaned forward. Gently, his nose nestled into the hair just beneath my ear.

"I've worried for you since the night you saved my life."


	11. The Flowers in the Corners

I knew more than I should about the Vale of Arryn. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that as the mistress of the Twins it was my job to keep informed about the surrounding Lords and Ladies.

Or perhaps it was because of a rather disturbing fact that had tinged Robb's victory since the end of the war. The fact that his sister, Sansa Stark had neither sent word nor been seen ever since entering the care of Lysa Arryn.

The sole reason that Robb hadn't stormed the fortress was - well, because it was a fool's errand. The Eyrie was located a dizzying length from the floor of the valley, giving it an aerial view of the narrow causeway that led to its gates. Those who wanted to get within striking distance of the stronghold needed to first pass through three individual castles located along the route. Some said that the causeway itself was so thin that a man needed to walk sideways to make it across the road, praying to the Seven's that the wind didn't pick up.

I had had the pleasure of staring into the arctic waves that rolled in my husband's eyes. I was more than assured that he would have scaled the side of the Eyrie himself to find his sister.

I suppose it was a mix of his mother and the letters of Petyr Baelish that had restrained the Wolf of the North. Or perhaps it was the look in her eyes as she pleaded Littlefinger's case - his honesty and good heart. I could see that struggle now between the mother and son, just beyond the flaps of my tent.

There they were, whispering, heads close together with Rob's brows furrowing further and further the more Catelyn spoke.

"This is completely and utterly unnecessary." I let out a sharp gasp as the medicinal woman tightened the bandages along my ribs, shivering as a dribble of sweat rolled down my back. My temperature had quickly gone from feverish to chilling. Or at least, that was the message that my brain was currently receiving from my body.

When I had first seen the odd lumpy way that my ribs were swelling, the bloated, purple mass, I had wanted to throw up. But then again, I had wanted to throw up since the moment that Robb had carried me to the medical woman that was currently fluttering between patients.

She was a strict, graying woman that reminded me strangely of an owl with her wide, brown eyes.

Those eyes snapped quickly to the tent flap as Catelyn slid into the room, her smile tense and her hands smoothing the crisp lines of her dress. Just past her shoulder, I saw the hulking form of my husband as he swept away, the tension in his body palpable.

"Massive injuries to the ribs," the old owl muttered, packing up her supplies and stepping back from where she had left me on a rickety old chair in the middle of a shoddy, makeshift tent that the remainder of the camp had forced together. It was to sort out the wounded from the dead.

The woman's eyes flicked grumpily from Catelyn to me. Both looked fidgety, shifting from one foot to the next.

"You may go," I grumbled, wincing as I tried to readjust myself into a more comfortable position, drawing the thick tunic that the older woman had given me down over my nakedness.

"My Queen." I didn't need to glance up to know that she had made a hasty curtsey and scampered off. She had more dire patients than a little girl with a boo boo on her ribs. I could hear them now, screaming, some gasping, final horrible breaths.

"It doesn't get better."

I jerked, whirling a bit too quickly and growing nauseous from the tug on my ribs that it caused. Catelyn's eyes were fixed on me, a sharp look there. It was almost as if she was trying very hard to determine what she should say next.

Finally, she forced a smile. "If you want, I could see-"

"No." I didn't entirely know what she was going to say. But I had the feeling that it required others to quiet their suffering so that I might shut my eyes for a bit. I stared blankly at the shadows running across the white canvas of my tent walls. How nice that I would get such a luxury while others died out in the field like common animals. "I need to hear them. Hearing them means that they are still alive."

I didn't say the second part. That it also reminded me of what had happened because of me. That people had suffered because of the fact that I was there with them. They wouldn't have dared attack Robb if he had simply gone with his own advisors and confidantes. In fact, the majority of the people killed had been my own entourage - a handful of housewives and stable hands that hadn't ever seen the green beyond the Twins.

I was a weakness meant to be exploited.

"You may go tend to the wounded." It sounded sharp, like broken glass, the way that I said it. Even the smile curling my lips felt like shards. It hurt. "I know that you want to and I must get dressed again."

To see my ribs, my stays, and corset - everything had to be taken off. It was going to be a delightful sort of torture to put it all back on.

Hesitation flickered across Catelyn's face. "No. I couldn't possibly leave you alone-"

Grey Wind brushed briskly past her in the middle of her sentence, his eyes barely meeting mine before he was loping toward a sun-dappled sliver illuminating a section of the tent. Blood was still drying in his fur.

"See?" I quipped, forcing a healthy dose of delight into my voice. "Not alone."

There was a soft sort of smile tilting across Catelyn's face as she pulled the flaps of the tent away to slip out.

It was odd. Outside the creatures still went about their business like the smell of gunpowder and blood didn't disturb them in the least. I could hear the quiet call of the birds and the rustle of the wind as it ran it's fingers through the leaves of the trees. For a moment, I stayed where I was, staring blankly at the side of the tent that Catelyn had just disappeared through.

A weakness. That was what I was. My throat tightened at the thought, a deep sting opening up inside of me. Dark emotions roiled inside of me, clawing at my lunges until every breath was more painful than the last. I refused to be something to be exploited - a crack in Robb's defense. Worse - a life that was useless. Some kind of female puppet to be paraded and slaughtered.

A sharp whine snapped my attention back to Grey Wind, his ears flattened as he snarled at some spot just below… I gasped, jerking my feet higher from the ground as a snare of vines tunneled through a patch of grass beneath the table that I sat on, ripping the dirt into clumps of turned mulch. Relentlessly, they slithered along the table legs, touching at the wood almost delicately before curling around it. It was a deep, lush green spiked through with unsettling concord purple hues. Small buds flowered along the vine, blooming an unnaturally vivid hyacinth tone.

Fear quivered along my veins, my heart beating painfully as I stared down at the quickly growing cluster and the continued climb of the vine until it peaked over the edge of the table almost tentatively.

"By the Sevens," I breathed, fighting back tears. Almost shyly, it slid along the edge and then finally completely onto the table where it curled into neatly rolled loops. Like it was curling up next to the fire. Like it was some kind of loyal animal.

My hands trembled as I reached out. These - this came from me? My brows furrowed, a deeply unsettling panic gripping my heart. This was my power? What even was it? My fingers prickled at the sharp bristles that coated the vines.

What could a pile of useless plants do? What was the purpose if such a power wasn't even useful?

As if reading my venomous thoughts, it whipped out, forcing a yelp from my lips as it curled around a nearby chair. It moved so quickly - one moment a neat bunch of cords, the next all the way across the room. Beneath its force, wood splintered, the chair giving a groan beneath the crushing force of the vines. With a final death cry, the chair completely broke in half, wood shooting across the room. In a corner, Grey Wind gave a savage growl, his ears flattened.

Seemingly satisfied with itself, the vines slithered back, disappearing back into the ground amid the turned dirt at my feet. My muscles seized as the final strand disappeared, rubbing my ankle almost - I swallowed, shaken - _affectionately_. It had just completely decimated a chair in less than a minute. What else could my plants do? Numbly, I stared down at the dirt, unblinking as Grey Wind huffed out a breath, loping over to sniff suspiciously at my feet.

And more importantly, how did I even control it?

"We move in an hour." I jerked, gasping as I whipped around to stare at the imposing figure of my husband as he yanked the tent flap open and stormed in. His brows were furrowed, his expression thunderous as they swept grumpily around the small tent. Grey Wind had loped over to him already, his eyes staying fixed just below my feet.

Slowly, his eyes moved to the crushed remnants of the chair, narrowing further. "Was that like that when you came in?"

His eyes moved back to me when I remained mute, staring at him dumbly. He would require an answer. My gaze flicked nervously from the splintered remains of the chair and then back to him. How could I explain this? A deep, sinking dread filled me as I imagined Robb's face - his horror - when I started babbling on - about what? Magical powers? It was - unthinkable. Not the little Frey girl with her parade of sisters and cowardly father. Whatever would she do with powers?

I would become his mad wife. The wolf has married a nutter, they would say.

"Nothing," I blurted out, blinking back the sudden burst of hot tears that had begun to cloud my vision. Words clogged uncomfortable in my throat and I fought to clear them, coughing. "I-I don't remember what - It was like that when I arrived."

For a moment, his eyes stayed on me, my fear growing until it felt like I was swallowing water instead of air. I couldn't speak a word to him. Not about this. There was too much in those eyes - questions that I couldn't answer. Beside him, Grey Wind gave a sharp bark and for a moment, I was afraid that my husband spoke direwolf. Sharply, his eyes flicked down to his wolf, a long moment passing where they stared at each other. Irrational fear made me lightheaded.

"Are you often so bad at lying?" The question jarred through me, making me flinch back into myself. His gaze was hard, unflinching as they held mine, his jaw hard with reigned anger. "Did someone enter this tent, wife? Tell me if you were caught again."

Caught-? He thought that the rebels might have attacked again.

"I- No," I breathed, jerking forward so sharply that my ribs gave a sharp cry of agony. Wincing, I clutched at them through the thick weavings of my tunic. "If there was trouble then I would have called for you."

"Don't try to flatter me, Willa darling," he purred and I stilled at the wild look that had crept into his eyes as he stalked closer to me. Quickly, too quickly for my untrained eyes to catch, his massive hand was cupping the side of my neck, his thumb tipping my chin up. His eyes burned silvery in the light, a nerve in his chin ticking almost imperceptibly. "We all know that I would be the last one to hear my name on your lips."

I stuttered over words, blinking rapidly up at him. I didn't know how to respond to him. He was a puzzle - an enigma. One moment he was clutching me to his chest - so gently, too gently - and the next he was looking at me like within the next sentence he would devour me.

"Do you hate me so?" he breathed, his eyes filled with an agony that bordered on rage. Sharply, his gaze flicked to my lips, drawing nearer until our breath mingled and a tingling rolled through me. "Odd how an attack happened so close to the Twins."

My brows rose at the implication, my chest tightening as confusion turned to a roaring fury. "You can't possibly-"

His lips curled back in a vicious snarl, his hand tightening further at my throat. "I can, Willa Frey-"

"Strange," I spat, clawing at his fingers, returning his snarl with one of my own. "I thought I was a Stark now. Will you revoke my title so quickly, kingling? I thought you would at least bed me once more before you lost interest."

His eyes lit to a luminous hue, a savage growl tearing from deep inside of him.

"Tell me you didn't betray me," he hissed.

"Why should I tell you something that every dimwit should already know? I may have married an animal but I didn't think I married a buffoon as well," I spat at him, my free hand going to shove wildly at his chest. He didn't budge an inch. "If you believe that I am insane enough to orchestrate the attack of my new husband and the potential murder of myself then believe what you must."

Robb's eyes remained hard, his hand staying firmly around my neck as he stared down at me. Slowly, the rage abated. How many men had died in this ambush? Rob would know. While I had been huddled in this tent, he had counted the dead and injured. He had seen them bleed, heard their dying whimpers as they went to the Stranger.

"You've met with your advisors?" I whispered, my earlier rage softening into near non-existence. His eyes flicked away, his hand loosening. Was it shame that I saw there? "It was an inside job?" He remained silent, his jaw working around something as a few dark curls fell into his eyes. "I didn't know the route until we were already treading it. Did you mention it to my fath-"

"I wouldn't trust Walder Frey with the scraps for my dog," he hissed, his shoulders going up. I gulped down a breath, sitting farther back. What could I say to that? I blinked back the sting of tears. I was his daughter. For a moment, Robb shut his eyes tightly, letting out a long breath. "I'm sorry. He-"

"My father is a coward and a liar," I whispered tightly, looking anywhere but into his eyes. "It was smart of you not to trust him with your route."

Robb didn't say anything for another moment. Beside him, Grey Wind watched our exchange intently. "It had to be someone who knew of our route. It had to be someone close to me."

"Were any drawings mapped out?"

"None. It would have been too much of a risk to have it written out so blatantly."

There was a traitor in his men.

"Who was the first to be killed?" I edged, trying to snake my head around all the lines that seemed to be drawn through this web.

His brows furrowed for a moment. "A small group of men at the back - mainly guards for…" His words wandered off into silence, his eyes flashing a dark silver.

"If," I started, trying to choose my words carefully, "I was to receive information, I would want the person who could betray my identity to be killed first - something that might look like an accident. And if I were to betray a king than I would want to know that my future would be ensured. The only person that could give me that assurance would be someone of great power or great persuasion."

"God, how did I marry someone so beautiful and smart?" Robb was across the room in seconds, the blue of his eyes returning in the light that crept in. One hand tangled in my hair, another grasping my nape to tug me closer to him as his lips met mine in a searing kiss.

It was unexpected. So unexpected that my body reacted immediately, ignoring the pain as I leaned into it, returning his kiss with all that I had. I wanted him everywhere. I wanted his hands under the tunic and his eyes searing into me the way that they had the night of our wedding. A deep groan rolled from his as he tugged sharply at my hair, biting down on my lip before diving deeper.

My mind fizzed as I arched further into him, my hands reaching out to pull desperately at his shirt. What was it about him that made me so hungry? I gave a whimper as his free hand slammed into the table beside my hip, his shoulders hunching as he leaned further over me.

"Goddamnit, Willa," Robb snarled, his hand untangling from my hair as he nipped at my lips. I wanted more. I wanted to be kissed like before. My hands tugged at his shirt, a soft mewl bursting from my lips. Why did I sound like that? He gave a harsh groan, his hand yanking at my hip, forcing my shirt higher as his hands skimmed across the naked skin. "You drive me mad."

"Your grace."

I froze, blinking a couple of times as I tried to think again - think of anything except Robb. I took a breath. And how good he smelled. His eyes snapped viciously as he snapped around, still leaning around me protectively. Reality slowly seeped in, making me painfully aware of how I was only wearing a tunic and that Robb had pressed his way between by bare legs, a rather impressive bulge pressed against me.

I took another strangled breath.

"What, Tarbor?" he snarled. His voice sounded savage, his shoulders crowding even more in around me, causing my vision to very nearly be limited to his chest only. I gasped as one of his hands yanked down my tunic, laying possessively on my thigh. A deep rumble built in his chest, echoed darkly by Grey Wind, his hackles raised as he stalked closer and closer to the quivering man at the door.

"Your men-"

"Eyes on me," he barked and I thought I heard the sound of a man jumping at the sharp command.

"You - you - You're council -"

"Get out," Robb hissed, only stepping back once the young man scrambled away. His eyes darkened as he watched me tug down the hem of my tunic even more. My face felt like a lit fire. How could I have lost control like that? What had come over me? I forced my eyes up, suspicion making me bold as I took in the intimidating build of my husband. Slowly, his chest expanded in a deep breath. "My council wanted to know my… thoughts. I wanted to come speak with you first."

In other words, they had wanted him to confront me and hoped for me to be turned out immediately. A heaviness settled on my shoulders, making me shrink for a moment. They hated me. They didn't trust me. I gulped, closing my eyes for a brief moment. What could I do - little Willa in her tower with her vines and fancy tales. I had run a household for over ten years now. I blinked, coming back to the stale air in the tent and the watchful gaze of Robb as he waited for me.

Something in my softened as I stared into those deep endless eyes. Although I didn't want it, he was mine. I didn't really know what that meant. But there was something there - an odd, tense connection that seemed to spark and burn me every time he was near. We were tethered together and I needed to win over his men - no matter how daunting the task seemed to be.

I winced as I slid from the table, the aches of my ribs returning in blinding ferocity now that the spell of Robb had worn away.

"May I -" I hesitated, trying to gather the right words. Finally, I met his gaze, trying to let all of the walls down to give him complete honesty. Something in his eyes flickered. "I want to gain the trust of your advisors and I - I would like to attend this meeting."

Surprise lit his face before a smirk curled his lips, his eyes twinkling. Slowly, like I might bolt, he leaned forward, his lips warm and soft as they grazed my forehead. His stubble tickled there, making me recall the harsh rasp of it against my lips. How they stung right now. "You are welcome wherever I might go."

I blinked, trying to not let the surprise register on my face as he pulled away. "I - I will need to get dressed."

Briefly, his eyes flicked to my ribs, a shadow crossing over before he whistled, making Grey Wind snap to attention from his post at the tent flap. "Grey Wind will lead you when you are finished."

"Thank you, your Grace."

Suddenly, his eyes flicked to a spot just over my shoulder, the greys lighting in confusion before they darkened once more. Slowly, they moved back to me, staying there for an unnerving second before he nodded, sweeping away.

Confused, I glanced behind me. It was like ice water had been doused on me.

Curling up in the corners of the tent were a variety of lavender flowers, vibrant in the musty light of the room.


	12. A Beautiful Man

The man kneeling before me was one of the most beautiful men that I had ever seen. His eyelashes were long and dark, striking against the green of his eyes and his face was made almost delicately. Long blondish, white hair tumbled around his face, accentuating the sharp slope of his cheekbones. Somehow, I found myself comparing him to Robb… And finding that I liked the wild, ruggedness that made up my husband's hard jaw and arctic eyes. This man… he seemed almost lost, fragile in some inner way that had nothing to do with his appearance or emotional width but his constitute.

There wasn't any kind of fragility to my husband.

"What is this about, my King?" There was a slight tremor to his words that made Robb's eyes narrow from where he stood in front of the young man.

I hadn't been noticed yet and I took a moment to gather my bearings, smoothing a hand over the dark ebony of my gown. Where there was an attack, there always seemed to be a war tent and that's exactly what had occurred after the ambush. They had dragged the wounded and all of the resources that hadn't been burned, setting up camp a mile or so away from the area that it had all happened, on the slope of a hill that was high enough for a strategic position on the landscape.

However, even my mind was working enough to realize that there was a slim chance that they would attack again. The group hadn't been organized or large enough to have enough backing to strike a second time so quickly. Most of the attackers had been slaughtered, the rest being hunted at this very moment. Briefly, my mind wandered. Why would they have attacked? What could they have possibly gained from such a slaughter? It would have had to be someone with a way with words to get that many people. Someone who knew the ins and outs of a new kingdom.

I gasped, biting off a yelp as my ribs crackled in pain. The corset dug into the skin there, making my pain near constant. The maids had powdered on a thin layer of rouge to give my face more color than gray. Now I could feel it streaking, a dribble of sweat rolling down my temple even as a breeze ruffled the trees. I wanted to curl into a ball in a dark, dark place until I felt anything other than this feverish sort of pain.

For a moment, I felt the ghost of my brother - felt the brush of his palms along my forehead like when we were children again and winter had brought gusts of sickness down upon the Twins. I could almost smell the cloves that always seemed to follow him about. _You look even more like our father by the day, bird brain. Mother would have roasted sage over you by now to expel the demon that's making you look like such an absolute beast._ Corlin… I wondered where he was. Was he still in those Towers? With our brothers that he couldn't stand and our sisters who he found peckish and solitary? He had always wanted so much more - or perhaps I had wanted that for him.

There was a murmur from the men inside - a rabble of voices that sounded oddly ominous. Quickly, I peeked inside the tent once more.

A large round table separated stood behind Robb and the beautiful man who knelt before him, spread messily with crinkled papers and maps. The servants hadn't put down anything to cover the dirt of the ground beneath the tent. Craggy men crowded the wide space, making it seem small and tense. Just against the wall, I caught a flash of dark hair and a glimpse of Lord Greyjoy. All had similar expressions and I suddenly realized why my husband seemed so controlled. Distantly, as if I was suddenly noticing the mountains of the Vale that outlined the horizon - like something that you had stared at for so long and only suddenly taken stock of.

This was what these men expected of my husband. No weakness. No hesitation. Somehow, sadly, they were still stuck with the ghosts of these past years. Inaction would get you killed. And hesitation would make your men lose faith. How many hard years had beaten this into my husband? Had he been softer before? A lump formed in my throat. Had Talisa seen the gentleness seep from him? Or perhaps he had let her take it willingly like a rose that could be picked from his chest.

Desperately, I shook these thoughts away. I couldn't think about this right now. I needed to be strong. I needed to be his equal. Not some sniveling girl, following at his coat tails.

The dark blue of the top of the tent fluttered a bit as the wind picked up. Suddenly a dozen sets of eyes were snapping over to where I stood in the doorway, the flap held open by a silent guard, whose face I could barely see through the helmet that he donned. It was moments like this that differentiated the women that I needed to be from the one that I felt cowering at all of the hard stares.

What had they whispered to Robb while I was with the healer? Worse, what had they whispered in the company of each other when wine and whores took away all of their inhibitions?

The wind picked up for a moment, the heavy ebony skirts whipping up, tugging at the bodice enough that my ribs gave a stab of pain. It was that that got me moving again. I had spent enough time dawdling with the maids as they put this odious dress on me, claiming that it was the only black dress in my wardrobe. Nevermind that there were startling pink blossoms that coiled up the hem, sparkling in a ludicrous way that made me feel like I was going to a ball instead of a war room.

"Your grace," the craggy, bearded man that I had first seen when we were leaving the Twin rumbled, sending everyone bowing.

I plastered on a smile, giving a laugh that sounded obnoxiously bright to my own ears. "Oh dear! Rise - we're all friends here." I swept into the room with another jingle of laughter feeling like some heavy doll being twirled around by an over-excited puppeteer. When no one moved, I clicked my tongue. "Well, if you insist on bowing then I might as well take it as a great honor."

Robb's eyes darkened as I drew nearer to him, placing a hand to his arm and leaning up to plant a kiss of his cheek. His face betrayed little of his inner thoughts, that tough mask firmly in place. It was the slight twinkle in his eyes that gave me the courage to keep going. "My darling," I gushed, turning with a flippant smile to face the room. "Thank you so much for allowing me to attend this meeting."

"You're in fine spirits," he murmured, his eyes still intent. I could almost read his thoughts. _What are you planning, you vicious beautiful thing?_

I didn't entirely have an answer to that. All I knew was that these men responded to pure force. They didn't respond to sentiment and tears. Perhaps that would make them stick around later but… Not right now. Right now they were still hungry - hungry for blood like animals that had sensed the weak. And if I was being openly criticized they viewed me as just that.

Everyone had stood at this point, their eyes curious and skeptical.

"My lady," a crass older man murmured, his eyes flicking around uncertainty before they were back on me. He had a salt and pepper beard, wrinkles around his eyes suggesting that he smiled. He wasn't smiling at the moment. "How are you? We had heard that the middle of the party - where you were at - was hit heavily."

"Oh, I can take care of myself," I murmured, letting the heavy implication of the words lay as they were. And something about that seemed to unsettle the men around me. I let out a laugh, turning to Robb once more. "Look at me - taking up all the talk! You must be fuming, my darling."

"I wouldn't entirely use that word," he rumbled and I wanted to flick him so much for the sly tip of his lips and the way that his eyes roamed freely over the slope of my neck down to the heavy amount of cleavage that the dress allowed. His fingers skimmed along my hand - a fleeting touch that barely even registered to anyone. Anyone but me.

I resisted the urge to flinch away in embarrassment at the open display. It was… somehow too revealing. Like every man could see the kind of power that Robb had over me. But Robb was already turning back to the man kneeling before us, his eyes suddenly going remote.

"We've found some documents in your possession, Lord Trinner." Casually, he reached behind him to take up some papers that had been stack neatly on the large table behind him. Although they had obviously been handled with care, they were still crinkled and mud smeared. I resisted the urge to recoil as I caught the unmistakable splatter of blood. "The content is rather interesting." A smile curled his lips as he stared down at the man who was now quivering. "Would you like to elaborate? Or shall I just read verbatim?"

"Please, your grace," Lord Trinner whimpered and I was surprised to see tears gather in his eyes as they flicked all around at the imposing figures of all who had gathered. "I - I was told that no one -"

"Don't insult me further by lying," Robb hissed and his shoulders tensed even as his whole body leaned farther over the cowering lord at his feet. "Are you stupid or did you find it amusing to use no code when conversing with whoever would eventually attack our party?"

"I would - Your grace, I never meant to hurt you," he whispered, his words wavering even as his eyes snapped over to hold mine. So he had only wanted to kill me. How charming.

Some of the men shifted and stilled in obvious alarm, their eyes snapping to me. It was a rather bold thing to insinuate and for a moment I debated on whether my husband was right or not. Lord Tinner was either a man who liked to be amused or someone who was beyond stupid. Briefly, I met Robb's eyes silently pleading for a moment to address the man at our feet. For a moment, he simply held me there, his eyes still cold as an arctic breeze. This could either go horribly wrong for me or… perhaps I could salvage this interaction in my favor.

Robb nodded, a near imperceptible tip of his chin.

"I suppose I should thank you for finding me to be such a great threat," I murmured, forcing a smile. "Do you know how many of my servants you aided in killing today?"

"I would kill every one of them with my bare hands if I could." His face twisted into something ugly and dark, red and purples flashing across his face as veins popped at his temple. Against the chains binding his wrists, his shoulders strained to be released.

I blinked. So he was just an oaf. Whoever had gotten in his ear was a very good judge of character - and deadly if he had only persuaded him through letters.

"56," I clarified, straightening up until my spine popped and my ribs cried out. Like a child, Lord Trinner kept his jaw squared, an annoying pout making his face almost unbearable for me to look upon. "Although my husband had a significant number of casualties, the people from the Twins made up a little over a third of the dead. While I grieve for those of Winterfell, the servants from the Twins were made up of volunteers from my father's home. Their blood is on my hands and I would like to have a reason when I write to their families to tell them of their sons and daughters, mother and fathers, brother and sisters - I would like to give them an explanation on why they were killed so brutally without any regard."

I felt something savage and twisted curl my lips, an unexpected viciousness that made something coil up inside of me tight. From somewhere in the tent I heard a gasp but I couldn't look away from the watery green of Trinner's eyes, how they widened far enough for me to see the red veins there pop. "Why did you kill my people, Lord Trinner?"

I could barely hear the breath of the people in the tent over my own heartbeat. Something inside of me cracked at the thought of all the men and women that were being buried in unmarked graves just a few paces from this tent. And this man - no - this child had thought it amusing to kill them. To aid in their slaughter like a little boy with his toys.

"I - I -" Briefly, his eyes flicked to some spot over my shoulders and then slithered over to Robb like a drowning man. "I fought with you."

For a moment the room spun, throwing me off balance enough that I reached a hand out for the edge of the table to steady myself. My throat felt raw as if I had been screaming for hours.

"Your father fought with me, Lord Trinner," Robb whispered, and for a moment I saw such sadness there that it brought tears to my eyes. "I remember his sacrifices quite vividly, I assure you."

"Give us some kind of evidence for your innocence, boy," a graying man with a muscular build pleaded, his face pinched as if he was watching something particularly painful.

"I'm not a boy!" Lord Trinner squealed, his face reddening. Across the room, I caught a glimpse of Lord Greyjoy's face. There was a sad sort of recognition etched into his face. Something that made him look older than he actually was. On the ground, Lord Trinner's shoulders shook with rage, angry tears gathering in the lashes that I had admired from the entrance earlier. He was just a boy. And suddenly I felt very sad for him. His father had fought with Robb in the war. Had he died in the war as well?

Desperately, Lord Trinner's eyes jumped around the tent, searching… And finding nothing. Wild eyes burned into mine and for a moment I reared back as they seemed to flash red. But that wasn't possible. I gulped, resisting the urge to mop a hand across my brow to get the sweat that I could feel running down my neck and back.

"Your whore - all you do is open your legs and all of a sudden your a fucking queen instead of the two-bit little tramp that got fucked by her father-"

"Enough!" Robb didn't yell. He didn't even raise his voice above a snarl but there was something rabid in his eyes as he stared down at Lord Trinner that made my blood run cold. The depths of his eyes were endless and freezing. Beside him, Grey Wind's hackles raised as he took a step forward. I thought Lord Trinner was going to pee himself.

The whole room had gone silent. And for a moment, I was in complete awe of my husband. He had a wild kind of power - the kind that made men want to kneel before him.

But…

"I would like him to finish," I whispered, turning my gaze back to the quivering man kneeling before us. A few of the men inhaled sharply and out in one of the far corners I caught the tilt of Lord Greyjoys lips.

"My Queen, please, this isn't-" One of the stouter men began, his cheeks reddening.

"With all due respect," I started slowly, keeping my eyes firmly with Lord Trinners. "I would like to hear why he slaughtered my people." I paused, trying to work around the words that were about to come out of my mouth. They stung my tongue. "I believe you were at the part about my father fucking me into queen-hood."

There was an audible gasp from the room and beside me, Robb's eyes darkened even further with barely contained rage. Lord Trinner's eyes widened and then narrowed, his cheeks reddening with… shame? Embarrassment? Wounded pride? I raised an eyebrow, trying to coax the rest of whatever was withering around inside of him out.

"I hope you _burn_ ," he hissed, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Your father's a piece of trash and would have let all of us rot if he wasn't able to unsaddle one of his worthless daughters for that goddamn bridge." I tried not to register the hurt that lashed through me. Secretly, maybe I thought he was a bit right. Beside me, a low growl rolled from Robb. "My father died just near your bridge. We had asked for supplies during the beginning of the war but your family wouldn't give them to us until we agreed to that fucking marriage proposal. How dare you stand next to our King in those borrowed clothes when you didn't have to suffer as my father did? All you had to do was open your legs and everything just dropped into your lap."

There was silence at the end of this. Such deep silence that for a moment I was lost in it. His words hurt more than I thought they would.

"I am sorry for your loss," I finally said, trying not to register the croak in my own words and how they shook. For a moment, I stared down at him, wanting to be stronger than I was pretending to be. "I'm sorry that you've decided to end your life with such a ludicrous plot." Red and purple seeped back over his neck and cheeks. "And I'm sorry that your wife and house will be known as traitors because of your actions." His eyes widened for a moment, flinching. He hadn't thought of his family. How typical. My voice picked up strength. "You have failed in your attempt to kill me. And now you will more than likely be tortured for information before being dumped in a shallow grave - more than likely with piss and bile ruining your pretty little outfit."

His face went pale at the prospect. I forced a smile to curl my lips, pushing as much delight as I could into it. "I am just sorry that I won't be able to attend it."

When I finally looked away from him, I was surprised to see that everyone was very still. Perhaps if I wasn't so exhausted, I would have been in ribbons at the thought of having mucked it all up. Perhaps they would all come and find me when I was alone and slit my throat right then. But… there was something in their eyes. It looked a lot like fear.

Something about that made me turn to stare up at my husband. I was tired. And seeping into the corners of my vision, I could see darkness. All I wanted to do was kneel down right there and go to sleep.

"Take him out into the woods and get any information that you can," Robb snapped and two guards that had been waiting against the wall moved forward. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a rather portly, graying man moved with them. He was silent as a cat and had eyes the color of starlight. I blinked. That couldn't be right. Did starlight have color? "My darling."

I gulped, trying to swallow around the cotton that seemed to be clogging my throat. Robb had extended his arm in an offer and I all but stumbled over my skirts to take it. I could feel the powder that was clogging my pores turning into sludge as it seeped down my face. This little show of strength had seeped away any resistance that I had put between myself and the pain of my ribs. Everything seemed to be induced by some feverish dream, the tent wobbling almost comically as we made our way out.

"Willa?" I barely heard Robb as he took more of my weight, steering me away from the war tent quickly. His arm was strong and I whimpered as it dug further into my side.

"I-" I tried to find words, blinking away the sweat that had dripped into my eyes. Something was moving in the corner of my eye, creeping closer until it tickled along my bottom lashes. My mother had always told me not to focus on those shadows. She had- "I'm fine."

But it came out as a cry. I was sobbing, shaking in his grip. "Willa - what did - What do I need to do-"

I gurgled, barely turning my head before I was retching up spittle and water onto the nearby tree trunk.

 _Look to the book_. I flinched, slipping from Robb's grip. His fingers cupped at my jaw as I craned to look into the line of trees. Blue. Baby blue like the flowers that used to bloom in the corners of my room.

"Mama," I breathed, shaking myself from his grip as I tried to crawl my way to the elegant figure of my mother standing just there - just at the edge of the tree line. "Mama," I sobbed. "It's been so hard."

"Willa." Robb's voice was shaking as he clutched me to him, trying to keep me from flailing away from him. "Willa, please look at me. SOMEONE GET ME SKIPPERTH!"

 _I left you what I could, my little, wild bird._ I let out a desperate shriek as hands cupped my face. They were so cold. Like ice. Like freezing water slowly trying to take me over. Like winter. _The book. Don't lose the book and don't lose the necklace._

"Mama!" I shrieked, clawing out as she turned her back. No, she couldn't leave. She wouldn't leave me here to this wretched, awful uncertainty.

"Hold her down!"

Sugar popped along my tongue and I gagged, trying to force it out of my throat.

"This will help. Willa, please - you have a fever. Just please drink." Something cold and salty splattered on my temple and I let out a breath, still staring at that spot just beyond the forest line that she had disappeared to. Robb - was that his voice? Why did it shake so much? And why was it raining?

But who really cared about that? Who cared...


	13. The Rubble and The Wolf

In Willa Frey, there was always a darkness. Derwa knew this the moment that she turned seven and found her baby sister in the garden staring off at the Trident, her eyes unsettlingly blank. In the wind, there was the sent of warm sugar and lemon, an unfamiliar scent to grace the Twins. Autumn held heavy and cold on the leaves, making the wind from the great river that circled their home seem damp and chill. Perhaps that was why Derwa felt cold and flushed all at once as she crunked her way through the pebbled path to her sister.

"Willa?" she had whispered, her gaze flighty as it searched the empty gravel that Willa sat on, stopping disdainfully on the wilted flowers and weeds that circled their garden. Could the gardener have done nothing for her birthday with the shrubs? "It's cold, Willa. We'll be eating soon and it's cold. Come inside or you'll have a fever and we all know how Corlin will wail."

"I had a dream," Willa had murmured in return after a long pause that had made Derwa's throat grow tight. Tawny brown eyes the color of warm gold ran stayed fixed to the waves crashing against the Twins' walls like a scorned lover. A secret part of Derwa had always hated her little sister for those eyes, so wide and seeking with a heavy dusting of lashes that gave her sister's face a cute innocence that she longed for. Her only hope would be that she got uglier before suitable gentlemen came to the Twins.

All thoughts of beauty and knights in shiny armor fled from her mind at the next words uttered into the foul wind of Autumn.

"I dreamed about blood and lions - wolves and fire. And then in the end there was only the ice. Ice as far as the eye can see." Slowly, Willa had tilted her head back, blinking up at Derwa. "Have you ever seen the cold like that?"

"You-you're crazy." But in the way that only children can know, Derwa knew that what Willa was saying was real. There was an air of truth around the words, like the feeling that she got from staring through a glass window and seeing into a room that she was never supposed to.

More than anything, that truth made her sprint away, her hands shaking and clammy. She would never go into that garden again and she would warn all of her sisters away from there as well.

Years later, Derwa would look back on that moment and reassure herself. Every cruel word that was spoken at her confident, pretty little sister were all for a reason. Willa was crazy and sooner or later her mask would slip and their father would know it.

And somewhere inside of Willa she knew that she was dark as well. She knew that one day that darkness would leak out and she would become just like her father and mother. She would make fragile people cry.

And when that day came, she wouldn't cry - not like she had when she saw Derwa run from her in fear.

No. Instead the whole world would weep. Willa Frey would have no more tears to give.

* * *

"She's been in a fever dream for nine days now," Robb hissed, his shoulders rigid as he stared down at the small, medicinal woman.

The tent that had been made in the dead of the mountains that led to the Vale of Arryn. They had made a harsh trek into the pass - as far as the small pack of soldiers and servants could go before they reached the unforgiving chill of the mountains. It would be nine more days before they reached the Vale - nine hard days that would be unforgiving to the woman currently thrashing beneath a pile of furs and quilts.

"Would you like me to heal her or kill her? If I give her any more milk of the poppy she's likely to wake up addicted to it." Skipperth's owlish eyes went thin as she glared up at the imposing man. For over thirty years she had ran the battlefields and bedrooms of the north. She had seen more blood and gore, heard more whispers of the Stranger in those hellish rooms and tents than this boy could ever imagine. Skipperth would not be ordered about like a scullery maid. If she had wanted to be than she would have stayed in King's Landing.

"She needs to sweat the fever and heal naturally. Not be carted about like a prized chicken." At this, Robb gave a vicious growl, his eyes wild.

In the corner, sweaty and cold all at once, Willa moaned, her eyes blinking around foggily before closing once more. For a night, Caitlyn had whispered fiercely with her son about tying her to the bed so she wouldn't thrash her way out and cause herself more damage.

"We can only stay here for four more days at the most," Robb snarled, his eyes flicking anxiously toward the woman who was staring blankly into the fire, her lips moving quickly. She had done this since she had lapsed into near unconsciousness nearly nine days ago, her eyes seeing ghosts in the deep of the woods or in the fires that were built all around her like an altar to the Gods. Briefly, his mind flicked back to the first night that he had came to that dim little slab that the Frey's inhabited. He had hated it. Every moment. Worse, he had hated that his mind kept drifting, thinking about rough hands and skin that smelled like mint and rosemary. He had long since let go of any affection that he held for Talisa but his mind still clung to those solitary moments. She had been a body to warm his after the screams of battle had long since numbed him. A moment where he didn't have to make a decision other than where he would like to place his lips next.

In that way, his mind had become lazy. He hadn't had to win Talisa over - not particularly. She had ambushed him with her thoughts - brazen and wild - but he hadn't ever particularly felt like sparring with her in that way. She was a untamable sort - something that you let be and admired in passing but never captured.

But then Willa Frey had whispered to her sister, her eyes frightened and her hands shaking even as she tried to force courage into the little girl in front of her. For a moment, he had felt something flare - something bright and familiar like the call of light after a boat has been lost to see for weeks. He remembered the feeling of offering comfort to his siblings. How long was it since he had spoken to Jon or teased Arya for her boyish gait and unending fire? Was Sansa as beautiful now as he remembered her to be before all the blood and carnage?

For the first time, he had stumbled, suddenly realizing that his life wasn't apart of some grotesque play. The steel of his sword at his hip felt heavy and he could breathe a little bit easier because it was better - _this_ was better than whatever hell he had been living in where everyone smiled for him and no one reminded him of what life was like before his father died and the curtain dropped.

It was that that had grounded him - had made him chase after her like some school boy longing for a single kiss or glance. At first he hadn't even known that it was her that had saved his life. Saved him from watching his men and mother wilt away from starvation. But after that he wasn't about to go back. He would marry her and although he knew that she would never love him - and in all honesty he didn't know if he would be able to love anyone either - they would be happy. He would be sure to make her happy - as happy as a monster, a slaughterer of men wearing the mask of a king could make a woman.

"The wolf went into the tower and dined with the rubble and dust." Robb flinched at the words, his feet carrying him swiftly to the edge of the bed. Grimly, Skipperth left the tent. She had heard the ravings of death before and didn't care to relive them anymore than necessary. There were other, more tolerable cases that she could handle. Cases that would end with a bandage and some salve.

Silently, his face set like stone, Robb waited as Willa gazed off into the flickering flames of the fire. Her skin which had reminded him of starlight was a grayish hue with speckles of red where her skin flushed feverishly. Her wide eyes, fringed so darkly were glassy and sick, the lace of her eyelashes dewy with tears and sweat. But her lips moved with an energy that scared him.

"He gorged himself on flattery and fantasy until his belly was so full that he could hardly move. But maybe a part of him wanted it to end. Being a wolf among men was hard. So he forgot his wrong, his perceived slights until the last moment when the tower crumbled and the wolf was killed. And the toll was paid. As it always is." Tears slid thickly down her cheeks, a sort of bone-deep agony sawing through her. Desperately, Robb reached down to run a hand along her face, trying to force some of his strength into her. If he could only just close his eyes and just wish, wake up to find her complaining for him to get away from her.

"Goddamnit, Willa," he hissed, childish anger flaring through him as she gave a frail shiver at the touch of his palm on her forehead. "You won't die before you even reach Winterfell. Do you hear me?"

He wanted to shake her, crush her to him and force all the sickness away from her. Force. That was the only thing that he knew. But force could do nothing for a woman dying.

Dimly, he stared down at her, those wide eyes fluttering closed as she slipped into unconsciousness once again. Strangely, he was more grateful for these moments than the lapses of consciousness where he could hear her suffering. And that alone made him feel wretched.

At his back, the fire crackled viciously in its hearth and Robb registered the slick slide of sweat as it rolled down his spine and throat. It was sweltering in the tent, so hot and humid from the water that had been splashed onto the fire intermittently that beads of sweat rolled from the wooden columns holding up the tent. Still Willa shivered, her teeth clacking quietly in the winter that engulfed her.

There was nothing more to do but watch her, wait for the brief screaming fits of terror that wakefulness gave her and the bitter cold that the sweet release of unconsciousness held.

"You need sleep." His mother's soft voice made him jump, her willowy presence startling in the heavy air of the tent. Sometimes he had wondered how such a frail woman had survived the war beside him. Had she seen the same dead that he had? How had it not broken her the way it had broken him? How was she still so… _gentle_? Her eyes crinkled as she stared down at him, moving around the bed silently. "I can sit with her."

Briefly, his eyes flicked to the still figure of his wife, catching on the hollow of her neck, slick with sweat where a small crystal necklace lay. Against the blanched tone of her skin, the magenta hue of the rock seemed to pulse lightly with color.

"You need rest." Quickly, Robb tore his gaze from the strange necklace. Was he imagining things? Just like he had imagined that strange flower growing in the corner of the tent nine days ago.

"Yes," he murmured, his bones creaking as he got up from the bed. "I'll… go to sleep…"

The thought seemed somehow strange to him like somehow leaving a battlefield in the middle of the bloodshed.

"What will you do?" That tone - he knew that soft, cajoling tone. Sometimes, during the war he had had to quil himself from yelling when his mother spoke to him like that. When he could hear the already formed answers barbing the end of her sentences. "When the four days come and she is not better - what will you do?"

"If," he snapped, the hair at the back of his neck raising like a wild animal. Jaime Lannister had called him just that while stuck in the mud and muck of his cell, staring out at him with that sarcastic tilt to his lips that had followed him into death. Sometimes he could feel that same animal clawing at his skin.

Caitlyn's lips softened into a patient smile. "If she isn't well enough to go on."

Silently, he swallowed, his eyes blazing with defiance before flattening out into a cool mask that Willa would have surely laughed at. "We march in four days. This pass is the only one safe enough to travel and we need to make it before the mountain folk grow aware of our position."

In the fire, a log gave a crack, it's hard skin giving way in the roar of the flames. Willa was silent, her eyes moving restlessly beneath the curtain of her lids. To move her while she was so frail would cause her to relapse. The duress would be too much for her body, small and weak from days of fever and vomiting.

She would die.

Caitlyn - for all her gentleness - was a practical woman. It was that reason that had led allowed her to brave the war. Logic over emotion. Decisions over inaction. As she stared down at the girl who had married into her family only a few weeks earlier she grew distantly aware of the fact that she liked her. In fact, she liked her son with her. That was why she had told him of her aid during the war and also why she had impressed upon him the importance of having a wife that could hold up and re-establish Winterfell to its former glory.

It was this unerring reason that also led her to believe that Willa Frey would not recover in four days.

Quickly, Robb left the tent, whistling sharply for Grey Wind before bounding past the edge of his tents to a rocky closure and drawing his sword. He wouldn't sleep. No, he would work his body until even his bones felt the ache that his soul did at this very moment.

* * *

_As always, please leave a **REVIEW** and I hope to see you next chapter._


	14. Chaos and Order

I was dreaming about Corlin when I heard the distant roar. It came from the mountains, deep within the cold expanse of the Vale where Aryn's widow sat atop her throne. How did I know that? Perhaps… Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I knew I was dreaming. Or… Not quite dreaming but… seeing. Seeing things that seemed almost like they were really happening in my own world.

But that was where the split came - the painful, bone-crunching sensation that I wasn't supposed to be here. The sensation that I was really in a bed, withering in agony but that my mind… My mind was here.

"WHERE'S MY BLOODY MEAD?" I jumped whirling at my father's rabid howl, his knuckles white around the leather pads of his high chair. The hall was oddly desolate in the twilight of another day gone, all of my sisters forbid from entering it after the breakfast meal. Like stray animals, we had already been served our meals in our rooms or in one of the larger areas in our hallway. Father had always said our feminine tendencies would sour the meal for all the men.

"Down your gullet, you old vulture," my brother whispered contemptuously, his eyes narrowing on the slab of pork in front of him. Beside him, an array of our brother's ate their meals. The eldest were only permitted to sit at the dais with him during special occasions. Otherwise, they were seated at the long tables like unruly children ready for a lesson.

A side door burst open and a maid rushed in with another pitcher of ale. From the slowly drooping hang of my father's eyes, I could tell that this would be another in a long line of drinks for the day.

"Took you long enough, you worthless twit," he snarled like an old hound, snatching the whole thing from her.

"He's in a fine mood," I mused, sitting heavily in the unoccupied section of bench beside him. My mind rolled uneasily with the knowledge that I was seeing something no one else should. The body surely wasn't meant to travel wherever the mind wanted to go. I glance at my brother, softening at the tawny glow of his eyes. I had missed him. Missed him more than I had ever been able to think of.

"Dania's staring at you again, Cor." Just on the other side of him Daltis, one of our younger brothers, grinned mischievously. I had always thought he was a bit of a rascal - always stealing bread and cheese from the kitchens and running off to the towns for God's know what. "Give her a good time last night?"

I glanced up to see a petite, little thing standing just beside one of the kitchen doors. Her eyes were wide and kohl dusted - something unfamiliar to most maids in the Twins. Even us Frey girls never had immediate access to it. But from the way that her eyes had turned a watery red it wasn't a great mystery about whether she had stolen it or scraped some muck from the stove.

"Corlin," I murmured disapprovingly, watching as Dania gave a nervous shuffle, her eyes intent on my brother's face. In a way, I had always hated him for how callously he used girls and threw them away. But in another… I knew that he didn't know. He didn't know the power that he had over them and he had never met a person who would tell him. Not even me. "A little young, don't you suppose?"

"She's too young," Corlin murmured, startling me. I stared hard at the side of his head. Had he heard me? No. He hadn't even glanced up before he had said it. We had always been completing each other's sentences when we were in the Twins. I didn't know if it comforted me or saddened me to know that that hadn't broken from the distance. "I haven't even spoken to her since-"

His mouth snapped shut quickly, his eyes darkening. A few of his curls fell forward, tickling his temple. When he was a babe, mother had forbidden the servants from cutting it. She even went so far as to discharge one of the maids for merely suggesting it. I had never understood why - but then again I didn't think I would have ever understood anything that my mother did.

Sometimes she reminded me of our river - familiar in the way that I knew when to go to my window to catch the freshest breeze that rolled from its surface but still distant in that everchanging way. Unknowable.

"Since Willa left," Daltis finished matter of factly, swallowing down the rest of his meal with such relish that he didn't catch the venomous look flashing through my brother's eyes. I had seen it too many times growing up as his constant companion to not recognize it. "But Derwa's been doing rather well with the running of the house."

"Yes," Corlin drawled, his eyes flicking around in mock boredom. "She does rather like being able to boss everyone about. One of her many assets, I am told."

"Oh, you've always been rather cranky when it came to Derwa. All because Willa didn't like her." My lips thinned at the remark. I was sure that that feeling went both ways when it came to Derwa and I. "You need to stop clinging to her skirts like a babe."

Corlin looked on the verge of lashing out, his eyes wild with agitation. I tipped closer, watching him intently for a moment before reaching out. Was I able to touch him? Would he feel me trying to comfort him like I had when we were toddlers and still so unsure of our place in our father's house? My hand hovered over his shoulder. No. My hand withdrew back to my lap, a deep ache starting inside of me. I didn't particularly know what this was - why I was here, able to hear and see him like some kind of sick, torturous play - but I didn't want to unsettle this. I was already trespassing on something that felt oddly sacred - like a gift given by the Stranger or perhaps the all-seeing Crone.

My head whipped to stare out the arched entrance of the balcony, catching the now fading light as it glared from the water just at our borders. There it was again - that rumble like the earth was shifting and rolling beneath layers of ice and rock. It was so clear that it made my insides quiver. _Come to the deep dark_ , it whispered to me. _Let the Chaos in._

"Shut your gluttonous mouths!" I gasped, whirling back at my father's angry snarl. Wine sloshed onto the decorative mats, slopping over his untouched food like water against rocks. His lips curled back in a leer, his eyes rabid beneath the heavy droop of his lids. Already he was drunk, barely conscious enough to hold the goblet in his bony fingers.

"He's such a sloppy drunk," Corlin whispered from beside me, his face hardening into one of pure hatred. Such hatred and rage that I flinched back. I had never seen him like this. At that moment, a sliver of dread lodged in my throat. I saw something in him that was too similar to the man on the dais before us - a rabid kind of hatred that only seemed to belong to the eyes of a Frey.

"You're quite a sloppy drunk as well," Daltis murmured, cracking his neck as he leaned back in his chair. In all ways, he appeared relaxed almost languid except for that sly tilt that always seemed to light his eyes. There had been rumors when he had been born - rumors that our father had raped a thief that had tried to steal from our kitchens and kept her son as punishment since the abuse didn't seem to be enough. I swallowed, staring at his almost elfen features, sharp and playful but deadly in that mysterious way.

Those same dark eyes slid to Corlin, a sort of prodding fire in them. He wanted to get under my brother's skin. He wanted a reaction more than anything else like a child pulling at another's ears. "Couldn't even get up after your own sister's wedding night you were so tossed. Looked like a damned fool trying to run out the gates after her horse-"

"Shut your filthy trap," Corlin growled, the tips of his ears turning a vivid red as he jerked forward, his hands clenched like he was ready to bloody Daltis.

"Corlin!" I breathed, watching as his shoulders went rigid. But he had stopped mid-lunge like - like he had heard something. "Not here. Not in front of father. He's goading you, bird brain."

A moment of tense silence passed between my brothers. Daltis was still leaning back in his seat, his eyes sharp and cutting even as his lips played at a lazy smile.

"I have enough regrets for you not to remind me of them," Corlin suddenly whispered, his shoulders sagging as he slowly settled back on the bench. Beside him, Daltis softened, a look of disappointment lighting through his eyes before something else flickered across them - something gentle.

"I underestimated you, Cor," he murmured, turning his attention back to our father who was fumbling through a long-winded and rambling sermon. "Perhaps the loss of your sister has made it a bit easier to pick at you - and I do so love to pick."

A grunt was the only reply that he got.

"...Marriage to the Bolton's has finally come to be." My head whipped to stare up at my father, his goblet sway this way and that as he warbled on. Walda had been betrothed to Roose Bolton for almost a year now - a fact that our father was always overjoyed to announce whenever she was present. Such a long period of time was unheard of and whispers were beginning to go around that perhaps it wasn't because of his house that he was refusing to marry but because of his intended.

My father's brows knit as he stared off at some place in the walls above us. I glanced behind me dubiously, only to find the same worn bricks and mortar that kept our Twins together.

"Willa?" I blinked, startled at my father's rough question, turning swiftly to find him still staring off at the same spot. His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth moving in some quiet recitation. "No. No, that one was married off a bit ago. Only one of the lot to make a good match but that might have been because of that nice, little body she had - very spritely."

My stomach rolled at the words, disgust, and shame flaring hotly through me. Beside me, Corlin snarled, his face reddening as his hands tightened around the knife beside his place.

"Pig," we said at once and for a dizzying moment, I was reminded of all those moments that our words had been jumbled together. Like our thoughts were one beast running at the same pace, diverging around trees and streams but always finding its way back to that single path.

"Witcha?" Our father murmured, huffing as a few of my brothers stared up at him blankly. Irritated, his goblet slammed down to the table, silverware jangling. "The fat one!"

"Walda," I sighed, my disgust growing.

"I believe the fat one is Walda, father dearest," Daltis drawled out, his head tipped back so he could stare blankly up at the ceiling. He had always tired quickly of our father's games. In fact, he rarely even attended these sort of dinners at all. I didn't even recall him being at my wedding celebration.

"Whatever her name is, she'll be married to Roose Bolton as soon as she's carted off to Dreadfort," father grumbled, obviously missing Daltis' sarcasm in his stupor.

"He isn't even coming to get her himself?" Corlin grumbled in astonishment, his brows furrowing. "What a lazy bastard."

"A fine match if ever there were one," Daltis replied, spinning one of the knives around with such delicate precision that something like suspicion started to creep through me. How had he learned to handle it like that? It looked to be too skilled for him to just have picked it up in our hallways. "Roose and Walda can be lazy together."

"You're an absolute ass, Daltis."

"Ah, how I miss the little lass that used to call me that," Daltis murmured, staring longingly down at the knife in his hands. "Always go for the gals that call you the most horrendous names, brother. They'll set the sheets aflame when you finally woe them."

"The last person I would want to take advice from is the families black sheep," Corlin quipped.

"Yes, because it's such a grand family to be a part of," Daltis drawled back sardonically, his gaze flicking to the badges displaying our sigil that some of our brothers had embroidered into their tunics. "If I keep going down this despicable path there might not be anyway that I can get back into father's good graces," Daltis continued on dramatically. "Probably have to go rape some poor lass who slights me or perhaps stab an ally in the back and then claim ignorance."

I blinked, glancing around nervously. Our brothers were… untrustworthy when it came to the art of secret keeping. Since I was little it was always about who was my father's favorite. In the Twins, it was a constant grab for power, each battle won through back handed comments and secrets traded to our father. My brother's craved it. And perhaps they knew that it was the only way that their futures were ensured. Where would the Twins fall when my father finally died? Worse yet, who would take all of my brothers and sisters when one of them took over?

"Be quite, you dolt," Corlin hissed. He was obviously thinking the same thing I was. There were too many of our brothers within earshot to get away with comments like that about our father.

"Oh, Corlin." Daltis' expression was oddly sympathetic. "How long are you going to stay here with our father lording over it like he's hiding some great fortune? The only prize here was your sister and a king already swept in here to take that away. What else is there? All of his precious little bastards? The river? If anyone wanted this heap of rubble they could run us out like _that_." I flinched as he snapped his fingers. Daltis' eyes had taken on a hard glint. "What are you staying here for?"

I could feel the discomfort coming off of my brother in waves. Silently, he stared down at his plate, his jaw working as a few stray curls falling into his eyes. Something tight and terrifying gripped through me like tiny hands slowly squeezing down on my insides. There had always been something restless about Corlin. Maybe there'd been something restless about both of us.

But now it was just him here all alone with our father and I could almost see that urge crawling in his veins, making his legs jiggle in agitation.

My father's voice had been droning on this entire time - rambling on about the maids and the Bolton fortune and why couldn't any of the other girls make a good match like that?

"All of you - worthless," Walder Frey final muttered, clearly disgusted as he stared off out the windows of the great hall. Sometimes I wondered about my father. I wondered if he had ever been a little boy, rushing down the halls or loving a woman with all of his being. Then I wondered if it really matter. Would it make him any less of an animal? "Walda will need an escort. One of you will need to go with her to Dreadfort."

Silence rang heavy through the air. The Boltons… they were a family that no one wished to trifle with. Under Eddard Stark, some of their traditions died a heavy, brutal death. But the vein of rebellion still pulsed strongly beneath the Bolton's land. Rumors had flown across the North like dandelion seeds on the wind during the war. One of them that my father found singularly amusing was that the young wolf was finding it particularly hard to keep a leash on the Bolton armies.

Occasionally, my father would burst into laughter. One day one of my older brothers had finally filled me in on the reason. It was rumored that the Boltons had flayed a few Stark lords in their time and kept them chained in their corridors, screaming until they eventually grew silent and still. To this day, it was said that those Starks were stilled chained in those halls, rotting away.

The Bolton's weren't known for their submission. But they _were_ known for their skill in causing both terror and contempt from everyone within the North.

"I would be honored to take our sister to her new husband." I nearly choked on my own tongue as Corlin stood, his face solemn. Beside him, Daltis' face had stiffened into mild shock.

"Corlin," I hissed, standing up as well. For the first time since I had woken up in this place, I was wishing fiercely that he could hear me. If he could hear me then I could talk some sense into him. Terror tightened my insides, making it hard to breath.

"You?" Even my father had stilled, his goblet half tipped up. His weasley eyes held scepticism and alarm as they scanned over my brother's hard face.

 _Tell him he can't_ , I pleaded desperately, leaning over the table to stare down our father. Like my silent prayer would reach him. _Please - just protect him this once_. For a moment, there was no sound. All of my brothers had stopped any conversation or pretense of picking at the bubbling messes on their plates. Slowly, our Walder's eyes narrowed further on Corlin.

"You, boy?" His eyes sparkled in the flicker of the lamp light before his roar of laughter filled the great hall. I looked down, not wanting to see my brothers flush of embarrassment as a good number of my half-brothers joined in.

The heavy sound of a dagger sinking into the thick food of one of the long tables quickly cut them off however.

"I was just talking to Corlin about what a grand adventure it would be," Daltis drawled, his hands sinking into the cover of his trousers as he gave a lazy look around. There was something distinctly arrogant to the tilt of his lips. "Stretch our legs. See the sights."

I stared at them both in wonder. A few moments ago they had been squabbling like children and now they were offering to go to Dreadfort in each other's company like they were going on holiday.

Slowly, my father's eyes narrowed. "Both of you?"

"Old age doesn't suit you, father." The laugh that burst from Daltis's lips was sharp and mean, leaving no room for whether it was a jest or barb. Walder's lips twisted into an ugly sneer, his goblet slamming down to the table. Giving off an immense amount of glee, Daltis continued, speaking slowly. "We. Would like. To. Take. Our. beloved. Sister. To. Her Husband. Yes?"

He ended with a winning smile and a thumbs up to the complete horror of most of our brothers.

"If you weren't my son, I would gut you where you stand, you insufferable maggot." It wasn't an idle threat. I swallowed nervously, still somehow fearful even a million miles away. It was the sort of gut reaction that only came from having lived under the same roof as this man.

All traces of humor quickly left Daltis' face, leaving behind an angry glint in the depths of his gaze. "Apologies, father."

Both Corlin and Daltis, bowed stiffly to the dias leaving Walder with the sort of satisfaction that only a cat has when playing with mice.

"You'll be given some allowance from our store however you will be mostly in the graces of the Dreadfort." He paused and for a moment, I saw something that sent a burst of hope through me. In the milky depths of his eyes, I caught a trace of hesitation, some sort of quiet misgiving. Frey's were a people of caution. We were backstabbers and posioners, familiar with the company of darkness and how to conceal what was necessary in its shade.

As such, we were always sort of wed to the Boltons. Like always seems to marry like and my father and Roose Bolton were eerily similar.

When I was younger there had been talk of wedding me to Domeric, the youngest Bolton true born. It had even gotten to the point that his father had brought Domeric to visit, arranging private playdates where I mostly sat with Colton and played with our dolls while Domeric had plucked away at a small harp.

He had been a chubby little boy and liked to giggle a lot, more inclined to staying inside than getting muddy with me. When my father had told me that I would someday have to go back with him I had burst into tears.

His father scared me and sometimes I caught Domeric crying, rubbing at a purplish patch of skin along his ribs or legs. When I had asked, he had clammed up and said that I couldn't tell his father which I thought was strange. Who else could have hit him like that?

Only a year or so into our engagement, before the time where I would have ever been able to marry, he had fallen ill. Strangely, violently ill.

"You mustn't go there," I pleaded, unable to stop myself from swiping at my brother's hand, trying desperately to grab his attention. But even as my hands curled around his, there was no reaction. I watched my brother's tawny eyes, hoping for a flinch or flicker of recognition. Instead they remained stoney, set on where our father was seating, the look of apprehension growing more apparent by the silence.

Sadness quickly broke over the surface of my mind. I knew Corlin and I knew that he would go to Dreadfort. The look in his eyes told me as much.

 _Willa_. I jerked, whirling to stare out the balcony window at the crashing of the waves against the side of the Twins. There had been a voice just now, soft and feminine.

Distantly, the stream of men's voice blended into a rushing like I was hearing a conversation from a different room. I blinked, my head spinning uncertainly as I tried to keep my balance. Colors blended together in the flickering light, washing and rubbing until I couldn't make out my brothers or even the great hall.

 _It's time to have a little chat, darling._ The voice was becoming clearer, drawing closer until I felt like if I just focused down, I would be in the same room as whoever was calling me. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to get my head to stop spinning.

"Ah, I always forget how fragile you creatures are when it comes to these sorts of things." My head was pounding and I was pretty sure that I was lying on something cold and damp. I groaned, trying not to let the bewilderment make me into a wild mess. It was one thing to wake from a fever dream into a living nightmare and a complete other to be dragged from that to - whatever this was.

"Wake up, girl. I can't keep you here all cycle." Something nudged against my ribs harshly, making me groan again. My whole body ached, my muscles protesting weakly and my eyes cracking open just a bit to let in the flickering lights of the lamps that lit the trees around us.

Above me, something sparkled off the starlight, blinding me for a moment before I could look properly. It was a crystal chandelier hanging from where two branches touched across the expanse of the clearing. I blinked up at it, not entirely believing that it wouldn't come crashing down in a wave of gold and glass.

Lavender plants curled up at the roots of the trees, belying the fact that these plants needed open fields to grow much less blossom as vibrant as they shone in the lamplight. Only the shape and smell were enough to clue me into the actual blossom since the whole plant was a striking red, drizzled over with gold.

It only got odder as I slowly worked around the clearing, taking in the disjointed variety of gold pleated chairs and settees. Vines coiled along the ornate legs and arms, belying the fact that all of the furniture looked brand new. Every article of furniture that I could think of was there in that field from gold crusted dressers to a coffee table that sat tipped against a tree at the edge of the clearing.

And sitting in the middle of the clearing was the rotting remains of a giant tree, it's top sheared off, leaving behind only the trunk. On it, red and gold silks spilled over, heaping the ground and roots of the forest floor. Candles burned down to a puddle still burned as they circled the edge of the tree.

Reclining on a cluster of pillows and fur throws was a woman - My mind condensed along her features, my eyes focusing and then blurring as I tried to distinguish what she looked like. I winced, turning my gaze to the chains that bracketed her ankles. Even they were welded in gold and splattered with something that looked suspiciously like blood. My eyes followed the snaking trail until it disappeared beneath the roots and dirt beneath her altar.

"Are you finally with me, Willa Stark?" I jerked at the name, somehow shocked that she knew who I was. But then again - why should I be? I had the creeping feeling that she had dragged me here. I forced my eyes to her face once more, finding with relief that her features had settled into one of a striking female.

Obsidian locks curled at the nape of her neck, twisting around her head like a coil of snakes ready to strike. In her eyes, I thought I caught the reddish glow of a hundred fires, burning up houses. I could hear the screams just by keeping her gaze. Her lips were full and blood red, striking against skin as dark as the night sky above. She was endless and destructive in a way that human skin couldn't seem to fully contain.

I was in the den of a beast.

"You needn't be afraid, little witch." Those words worked directly against the quiver that worked through me, the voice silky and almost cajoling in it's tone. Red lips tips up and suddenly her hair was as white as fresh milk from the cow, slithering into a series of braids that were wound with bloody, red roses. "If I had wanted to kill you, I very well could have. In fact, I daresay that I rather like you."

"You-" For a moment, my voice gave out on me before I was able to regain myself. "What are you? Where - where am I?"

Her head tipped to the side as if considering whether to answer or keep along the same train of thought that she had been following before. Slowly, she nodded. "I believe at this moment, your mortal body is dying of fever in some shabby little tent on the outskirts of the Vale. However, your immortal body - well, that's a bit more complicated." Blackened teeth flashed for a moment, jarring in their severity but leaving me in no doubt of how much glee she was getting from my discomfort. For a moment, we sat in tense silence - two opposites mirrored. A small, trembling girl crumpled up in the mudd and a queen upon her throne, deadly in beautiful.

"My name - well, I've lost that but you can call me by what everyone does." Her smile was bright and terrible, her shoulders going up as she leaned forward from her seated position. "Chaos."

A million memories flooded me at once, all worse than the last. My mother had spoken to me often enough about the nature of Chaos. She had almost seemed to say the name like a prayer, something to be worshipped instead of thrown about. She had also warned me in cryptic little snips to never, ever let Chaos slither inside of you.

_"Chaos," my mother whispered, rubbing the oils from a blackthorn's leaves into my fingers. To ward away the forceful, she had told me after I had made a fuss about the bitter smell. "She takes too much when she arrives and when she leaves… I've seen ghosts with brighter souls than her. You will not let her in. You are too strong to bow to someone who takes so much."_

"I believe your mother spoke of me," the goddess drawled, making a show of adjusting her chains. Mentally, I measured out how long that tether lay, finding myself well out of her grasp. "For a while, she did a well enough job of blocking you from me but-" Dainty shoulders raised in a half-hearted shrug. "That hold grew weaker after her death. Imagine my glee when a few nights ago it just... _broke_." Long, pianist fingers snapped together, making me flinch.

"What do you want from me?" The words were barely more than a whisper, my breath coming in short bursts as I tried to glance discreetly around. There was no exit and even if I found one - what was I expecting? A tavern? Robb to come running up with Grey Wind at his side? No. This wasn't the mortal realm any longer. This was hers and the only way to get out of it was to play with her.

I straightened, folding my legs beneath me and smoothing out the wrinkles in my skirts. I had no idea what I must look like but it wasn't going to get me any further by quivering like a rabbit.

One delicate brow arched in obvious amusement as she took in the change in poster, something about her demeanor changing. Beneath, her dark, beautiful skin something rippled like pebble being thrown into a pond. Whatever her true form was, I was inclined to guess that it would have sent my little human body running for the hills.

"I appreciate a woman who gets to the point." Her fingers rapped down, impatiently at the furs splayed across her lap. "As it is, we don't have much time so I'll cut to the chase." Those endless eyes trapped my own. "Your mother was one of the few witches that were actually worth a damn. She served me for the duration of her life and - incidentally - offered your services as well when she realized that you shared the same gifts."

Shock made me stumble. "She… she made me your slave?"

"Everyone is my slave, darling," Chaos purred, settling back like a cat that had just killed a rather large bird. "Although it could be considered servitude there was a contract between us - something that her grandmother before her had negotiated and bled for when she realized that this world doesn't treat your kind very generously."

"My-my… kind?" This was all a lot of information. My thoughts spun back to the vines that had sprung from nothing. The flowers. The dreams.

"Witches," she clarified, her eyes scanning over me quickly before she continued. "Each of the women in your family have had abilities manifest in ways that are unique to every female. Your mother was adept at the art of bloodletting and bone-breaking - you can imagine my joy. Her mother was a renowned healer. You are one of many in a line of extraordinary women."

I blinked, growing dizzy. This was… I leaned to the side, throwing up a soupy whitish liquid which made the woman in front of me recoil in disgust.

"Yes," Chaos said slowly as I spit into the grass. "It seems that you're dying."

My head whipped to the side. " _I beg your pardon_?"

She shrugged, not looking particularly emotional about the revelation. "The human body can only survive for so long without it's core. Your spirit has been wandering for well over a week now."

"Are you trying to help me or destroy me?" I hissed, paling as a bit of blood came with my next attempt to spit out the awful taste in the back of my throat.

Peeling laughter like the sound of horses stamping and waves beating against rock filled the clearing, reaching up for the very sky itself. Was it possible for a laugh to decimate the stars?

"I honestly couldn't tell you, darling." Her hand waved absently as I fumed. This creature was infuriating. "But let's not grow miffed just yet, shall we? Your business comes with the contract that was formed with the first of your bloodline. On my end, I allowed for ultimate safety. No mortal man will ever burn you nor drown you or crush you beneath the rocks of this earth for being what you are. And on your end… well, let's say that you would keep the order."

"Order?" I blinked, taken aback. My eyes searched across her face, trying to piece together what I had missed. "You're… Chaos."

If I could have seen her pupils, I'm sure they would have rolled. "It's disappointing to know that your mother didn't even try to inform you of the little things. Perhaps even more disappointing is your small, human mind."

I wasn't entirely sure if I should be offended.

"We are one of the same coin - order and I." Her voice had somehow gone soft, like a woman speaker of her lover. "From my skin, the toils of war are dug, the battle cries and final slaughter are taken. I give the frenzy while Order gives the strategy. From my breath, I create laughter and art, inspire revolt against oppression. We are one and the same, forever dancing and moving together. Order created the concept of dance, giving name and reason to movement while I inspire the passion to create and dance with all of one's being. There is no separation."

Her eyes were fathomless as they caught mine. "The balance has been tipped in my favor for too long, Willa Stark. Order has grown weak and I…"

The chains at her feet rattled, dragging deeper into the mud like it was being yanked upon. Slowly, her lips thinned.

"You're very existence will level things a bit but I have a request that you must fill."

"That sounds like a demand," I clarified, feeling somehow trapped. It sounded like my very life was within this woman's hands. I blinked, trying not to let the creeping terror show.

Chaos didn't answer me, her lips thinning. "Your choice is simple, Willa Stark. Die in the mountains before you reach Winterfell or accept this generous offer."

I bit my lip, turning to stare at the fathomless forest beyond. Was there really a choice?

"One task?" I hedged, already feeling the impatience ticking off of her in waves. Metallic tang coated my tongue and I gurgled a bit, spitting up a thick wave of blood.

"Tick tock, little witch." Was that glee I heard in her voice? "One little, bitty task. You will live and love and be done with this horrid business."

Die or live waiting at the beck and call of Order and Chaos. Was there really a choice? My heart scrambled at life. At seeing Robbs face again. At speaking to Corlin once more.

"Life," I choked out, gagging as some more bile rushed from my stomach. "I choose life."


	15. We're All in Pain

I had been sick once in the time that I had grown up. Usually, the dewy airs and chill winds that rolled off the Trident caught most of my siblings, sending them under into fits of fevers and vomiting. But Corlin and I had remained untouched, unsympathetic to our sisters and brothers whimperings. Children who rarely get sick also rarely feel the same sort of empathy when it comes to something so unfamiliar.

Growing up, I had been under the impression that it was good breeding. My brother and I weren't bastard children or cousins wed out of obligation. Our mother was of good birth and breeding and our father was young when we were babes.

Now, however, something more insidious slithered in the back of my mind, pointing an accusatory finger at the shadow that always seemed to creep behind our mother. Was it really just breeding? Or was it something more?

Whether it was a luckier lot in life or a deal with a snake that kept our health, I was grateful.

And completely ill-equipped to wake from the fever dream that had overtaken me.

"Hold her hair." I gagged over the most expensive pot I had ever seen. Wolves were dancing on the side, carved into the pure silver. Phlegm and dry air met the bottom of the pot, steaming the inside and sending a foul updraft to my nose. _Lovely_.

Blindly, I reached out, grasping onto the strong wrist of the man holding my hair gently away from my face. That same hand gave a reassuring squeeze as my nails bit into the soft skin at his wrist. _Alive_ , my blood sang. I was alive. And with that realization came another greater one: I was in debt. If there was anything that I had learned it was that debt could hang a woman and this was the debt of death. Anxiety hit at my throat, making it hard to breathe.

"If I had known that this is how she would greet me then I wouldn't have come." I nearly groaned at the arrogant lilt, catching sight of a pair of shiny leather boots and clean breaches as I spat.

"Shut your trap or get out, Theon." I blinked away some of the tears that had dribbled free, a few landing with loud splats against the pot. Robb. That was my Robb.

"Ew. She just spit on my shoe." A part of me had aimed for that sliver of perfectly polished leather in my weakened haze. God, I hated this arrogant prick.

"Get. Out." Ah, there was Robb again, his voice laced with such malice that I actually smiled. The hand combing through the shaggy tresses of my head stilled, another one coming to tilt my head upward. I blinked away some of the reflexive tears, staring up into the ruggedly handsome face of the wolf of the north.

"Back from the dead," Theon whispered from his place at the front of the tent. Grey Wind gave a rabid growl, his fur standing on edge as Robb echoed him.

"If you don't leave this tent right now, I will drag you out myself." His eyes never left mine, the softness there belying the fact that his words were barely leashed. A gust of wind tickled my nose as Theon quietly left.

And then there was silence. My breath whispered from me, filling the air between us. I felt gross and sweaty and surely smelt just as disgusting. Yet Robb's eyes stayed rapt my face, his hands still combing through the mat of my hair. There was something there in his eyes that made me pause, taking stock of all the things about myself that I had thought I knew. I was a mess - but somehow he was looking at me with… I paused, glancing down at the sweaty, rumpled sheets all around me.

He couldn't be looking at me like that. I glanced back up, catching the wonder in those crystal eyes of his, the way his head tilted as if he was trying to catch every detail of my face. It was too much. It was a lie. He was looking at me like I was so much more than I really was. And that was a sort of cruelty in its own right.

"Don't look at me like that," I finally whispered, tearing my gaze away from his once more to stare into the flickering flames all around me. The logs crackled softly from their perches all around me. They had created little bonfires at every corner of my bed.

"I thought you were dead," Robb breathed, his voice so raw that my eyes snapped back to him. I didn't think that he had heard me. There was weakness in his face - such vulnerability that I caught my breath. Slowly, he brought one of my hands to his lips, his eyes closing for a moment as I felt the soft touch of his lips and his stubble.

An odd fluttering filled my chest, making it hard to breathe. This man was an enigma and I was afraid that I was growing to like him. Gently, I tried to extract my hand only to get those striking eyes glaring up at me, his lips still running along the expanse of my knuckles.

"Is it too much to ask that I revel in you for a moment, my darling, wild thing?" My heart leapt, something like surprise and joy making it hard to breathe. His sweet words made my head roll. _Oh, you silly girl. How pathetic can you be?_

"I - For - for a moment, I think I was," I forced out, speaking the truth before I could even think about it. The words tumbled from me as he turned my hand over, kissing softly along my palm. "Dead, I mean." My mind ran blank. "I missed you."

Why did I say that? Heat burned at my face, making me look away from him as he gently set my hand down, those striking eyes now fully focused on me. Had it been so long that I had forgotten how arresting he was?

"You don't have to lie for my sake, Willa," he murmured, those grey eyes luminous as sadness flickered like a bolt of lightning through them. It made my heart hurt.

"I'm not." It was the truth. He was a giant in my darkness - like a wall that I kept running into. His eyes softened to warm skies and gentle rivers - rivers that I wanted to sink into and for a moment we sat like that simply staring at each other. And there was no fluttering, no quickening - only… contentment.

Was that what love was? Not the heat and fire… but the silent moment? The gentle waves that allowed you to float instead of tread? Perhaps that was it because at this moment all I saw was him and the world was finally silent. There was nothing but the strong tilt of his jaw and those disheveled curls that were endearing and wild all at once. There was nothing but that strong jaw and those eyes that held many battlefields. And I was finally there with him, still in all the chaos.

I blinked, all at once the night and all our problems rushing back in so quickly that I gasped.

That was - I reeled back, startled. What had that been? My mind scrambled at something to do to get away from those eyes. Shakily, I tried to straighten, my muscles aching even though I had been lain out for the last couple of days. Robb watched me struggle with unreadable eyes.

"When do we move?"

The question seemed to catch him off guard, his eyes darting toward the flap of the tent and then quickly back to meet mine. With that one question, I had effectively shifted the mood. For a moment, we battled silently against each other, each of us tugging at information. There was certainly little to no chance that we had found a cozy little village to bed down in. The Vale was hostile to all wanderers, king or kettle maker and the men and women that took root in the surrounding hills and mountains were as harsh as their lands.

"We have two days before we must pack and leave." He said it as if he were ashamed. As if he were waiting for me to lash out and scream at him, asking him why he would endanger my life with such a hard journey so quickly.

"You made the right decision to move so soon," I whispered, my hand reaching out to run along the hard line of his jaw, the stubble there tickling. "You would have risked more lives than mine if we stayed for more than a night or two." His eyes didn't soften, the regret darkening the blue. I forced a weak smile. "You gave me as much time as you could."

Desperately, Robb's eyes searched mine, looking for something that I didn't entirely understand. "This journey may yet kill you."

"I've already been to those lands," I whispered in return. "The woman there isn't all that interested in my soul." My thoughts turned to a different kind of woman - one that sat on a throne above the clouds. One who was mortal and dangerous in her own way. My eyes turned to my husband, catching his.

"Do I have anything to fear from Lysa Arryn?"

The hesitation that crossed his face was enough of an answer.

"I am king of the North and you are my queen," he started slowly.

"I've heard that she is mad," I cut in bluntly, keeping his eyes.

Words seemed to form at the tip of his tongue eventually evaporating in a strangled groan. His eyes were stormy as they moved to the front of the tent once more.

"Listen very carefully, darling Willa," he finally said, his voice soft as he leaned closer. "Lysa is pledged to no one. She's closer to a bird of prey than a human at this point and her interests are liquid. However...there's something to be said of her loyalty to blood. My mother believes that she'll stay with her family's interests - if only to allow us to stay for a time and then leave."

"Does she have an interest in the crown?" It was a fair enough question. Perhaps one of the reasons that Ned Stark had lost his head was as simple as not realizing that everyone would kill for a cut of the throne. Even those we trusted the most.

"No," he answered bluntly, his eyes narrowing. "But there's someone who does currently under her roof."

"Petyr Baelish," I breathed, a muddle of stories running through my head quickly.

"I take it you've heard of him." A mocking smile curled his lips. "His interests are up to the weather. Which is a distinct danger in itself when paired with my aunt's particular affections for him…" His eyes grew stormy as he stared down at me. "It's a different battlefield in the Vale, darling. One that has more to do with silver tongues than swords."

"Then perhaps I might be able to help you," I murmured, taking in the hard set of his shoulders. Robb was a warrior. My set of skills lay closer to the home - hopefully, they would translate well to the world of politics. Somehow I thought that I had had more experience with my siblings than most young ladies would have. It gave me a bit of hope.

"Whatever the outcome, Willa," he finally started. "I'll make sure that you're safe."

Something inside of my heart melted at his words. My hands reached out to his cheek once more, the stubble there ticking my fingers. "We're in this together now, husband. For better or worse, we're tied together. If anyone, you'll be able to come to me. I'll never turn against you. Never."

His eyes softened to warm silver, his hands reaching out to cup the back of my neck and draw me forward so that our foreheads gently kissed. For any of my fears, Robb was the only one that I could trust. I wasn't in the Twins anymore and I knew no one - had no ties to anyone outside of this man. I would trust him with my life. For better or worse.

A little bit of light twinkled in the depths of his irises, his lips pressing softly to my cheek before he was pulling away.

"You should rest," Robb whispered.

"Haven't I been resting for a while now?" I didn't want to sleep anymore. I didn't want to fall into that hot darkness again. Frowning, I shuffled around some of the furs on top of me.

"Fighting for your life is more the terms that I would use." Strong hands grasped my forearms, stilling my squirming. Deep lines of concern marred Robb's brow as he frowned down at me. "Rest."

He gave me one final frown before rising from his perch on my bed.

"If you would be so kind, my king," I called to his retreating back. Slowly he turned, indulging me. "I'll only need one day to recover."

"My men will think you're some type of corpse rising from the dirt," Robb said dryly, not seeming at all surprised at my polite request to leave in a day's time.

"Good." Primly, I picked at my blankets. "Then so many of them won't try to kill me."

"You may be right, wife," he drawled, brushing aside the tent flap. "It would be a shame to have so many good men die from such simple stupidity."

And with that he was gone, the heavy canvas falling behind him like a wall.

The real question was who would they have died from? My husband or me? For once in my life, I wasn't sure.

My hands flexed, my mind drifting as that question hung inside like a burning flame in the middle of an ocean. I had powers - unnatural powers. Powers that made me a target for things that weren't of this realm. Could I..?

I flicked my wrist, sweat dripping down my throat as a vine whipped from beneath the fur rugs just at the edge of my bed. Stay, I pleaded, my muscles burning as I gasped for a bit more air. My lungs were on fire but I could see it - it was there. I wasn't crazy. It trashed on the ground, knock over a chair and then smashing into it again in a fit of blind rage. It was as frazzled as I was - I realized, strength slowing draining from me.

I was tired. My body was covered in sweat, slowly turning my tunic into a clear mess that stuck to my body. A burning started somewhere in my chest, making me gasp out a low whimper as my hand finally gave out, the poor vine twitching where it lay. Desperately, I tried to hold on to that tether of power that I could feel like a second spine even as darkness seeped into my vision.

I needed to control this. I needed- I gagged, swallowing down whatever bit was left in my stomach as I slumped back into my pillows. On the ground, I could hear the dying struggle of that one, lonely vine that I had summoned and somehow that was as agonizing as watching my own mother's death.

A cackle like the sounds of broken glass and bowstrings itched through my ears before the darkness came - a promise that I was terrified to acknowledge.

The next days passed by in a tepid sort of haze. I was scared to summon anything else - fearful of Chaos and her mockery and also of how it would sap the energy from my already decrepit form. When I had awoken that first day, it was to the wondering murmurs of a maid as she cleaned up the trashed remains of my room. I never entirely knew what they made of the whole scene but the heated looks that I caught Robb giving me were enough to make me cautious of using them until I was sure to be alone.

As for my injuries…

"They're healed." Skipperth's eyes had narrowed as she had poked at the skin the day after I had awoken."Your bone was infected, your grace…"

I had seen the suspicion in her eyes then, her lips a thin line.

"Did anyone give you anything?" How was I supposed to respond to that? She was obviously fishing for some sort of response. It was too bad that I had to many secrets to give her anything.

I forced a smile to my lips. "Given the fact that I wasn't conscious for much of my sickness, I would say that you need to perhaps ask someone by my bedside. Perhaps my husband?"

The look on her face could have rotted all the flowers in King's Landing. Not such a big fan of Robb, it appeared. And given that look in her eyes, I was going to be sitting right beside him on that list.

I watched her closely as she inspected the tent and then my covers and body one more time. Was she looking for a vial clearly marked "elixir of life?" She would need to go ask Chaos for that. After a few more sharp questions about my pain level and some rather pointed attempts to get me to divulge my death-defying serum, she was packing up her tools and limping her way out of the tent.

I couldn't entirely say that I was sorry to see her leave.

Robb was so busy rearranging our party and utilizing the men that we did have that I barely saw him. Still, when I forced myself up and out of bed to take a stilted march around camp, I felt his gaze on my back. He always seemed to have the strangest expression. I could never pin it down.

Catelyn was my near-constant companion once I woke. She brought me my food and worried over me when I decided to finally rise from my bed. And she told me about how much Robb had stayed beside me. Perhaps she was simply trying to build some sort of bridge between the two of us. Perhaps there was another reason altogether that I wasn't entirely aware of.

Whatever the reason… I felt changed in some way. When I was near him, my eyes wandered to run along the strong expanse of his shoulders. Or take in the auburn glint of his curls in the evening light. I enjoyed knowing he was near, I began to realize. It was almost startling. Had I ever really felt that before?

The packing and final start of our journey was just as arduous. Though much diminished, our party seemed to be in almost the same formation to me. More guards were stationed around me along with a rather unhappy Theon who looked slightly offended that he was guarding me instead of his dear, sweet Robb.

Catelyn was situated in a small party just ahead of mine, her eyes always searching me out. Separating us was probably a better idea for the simple fact that the guards were more evenly dispersed.

It allowed my mind to wander to deeper, darker areas - areas where a force of nature crumbled into human skin held court. Caution colored every breath that I took. The bit of life that she had given me felt almost tethered and I was almost tentative to test the limits of it. Namely these abilities that she said my bloodline possessed.

"Your grace!" My eyes snapped from the worn path that the horses were treading upon. We had reached the mountain area, each path steep and narrow. Here the guards filed to the front of back of me, allowing for just enough room for the king's messenger to wheel his horse around to trot beside me.

"A message from the king?" I inquired mildly, leaning to the side a bit to catch my husband's auburn curls at the front of the party. He was so far ahead that he was already cresting the side of the ridge. Theon grunted from his place just in front of me. He had been in a silent tantrum since the start of our journey.

"Just an inquiry on your health, your grace." He was a young, scrawny lad with a plume in his cap and a long nose. His outfit wasn't very armored aside from the vest and arm padding. In other words, if we were to be attacked once more than there would be little to stop an arrow or cold steel from piercing straight through him.

"I'm doing splendid, if he cared to know," Theon snipped, his face shrewd as he turned fully around in his saddle.

"Yes, do tell my husband that his man child is doing splendid back here with all the destitute," I sighed, rolling my eyes at Theon's scandalized expression. "I'm sure in a moment or two he'll be amusing himself with a game of patty cake or perhaps stop for a glass of milk to cure his achy tummy."

"I absolutely despise you," Theon seethed, turning his back on me. In the short time that I had had the pleasure of knowing Theon Greyjoy, I had learned rather quickly that there was a delicate balance to his moods. Although, his tantrums were mildly amusing they were just that. I couldn't sense any sort of ill-will actually directed at me.

The messenger looked completely assaulted, his eyes moving nervously from myself to Theon.

"Tell the Wolf of the North, that my rump hurts and my ribs are killing me," I finally sighed, sensing his hesitation on bringing such attitude back to his king. I flashed him a bland smile. "And would you also be so kind as to inquire about his health since that is apparently the game that we're playing now?"

The young messenger didn't look at all amused by my antics but he nodded none-the-less and kicked his horse forward. My eyes followed him as he skirted around the party, wondering if I imagined the terrified tilt of his shoulders as he got dangerously near sliding down the side of the mountain.

The wind was crisp and bitter as it whipped off of the side of the rocky path and I turned my head, finally looking back on the path that we had ascended. Below the hardened surface of the mountain was slowly gobbled up by the forest's edge, the grass there a vivid green. We had reached a point that I could fully see the expanse of land below. For once, I understood why the men and women of the mountains ran wild. From here, colors popped in the depths of the forest. Meadow flowers burst forth in a shout of color against the dense, darkness of green.

A field of violent blue caught my eyes in the distance and I thought briefly of an old tale that my mother had whispered to me. A tale about a hidden love that blossomed from a flower into the first burst of blood. It was about a boy that gave the bluest of flowers to a woman who he had wanted since he was a boy.

On the night that they first kissed, the land burst into bloom with the reddest of flowers. The north and south were eaten up with that red and for a moment there love stopped time. For a moment, no one dared to move.

And when they finally pulled apart all the world was bathed in that awful redness.

From there love, the world started anew in blood.

"Your Grace." I blinked, realizing suddenly that my horse had slowed and finally stopped, leaving an increasing gap between myself and the rest. Behind me, my guards shifted uneasily, their eyes critical as they looked me over.

"My apologies." Turning swiftly, I nudged my horseback into a cantor, catching up the rest of the group. My little carthorse gave a huff as he met the unforgiving twist of the road. A massive beast, he was bulky and ill-equipped for the uneven ground we were getting further and further into.

Sighing, I reached out a tentative hand and ruffled his massive mane of ebony. When they had first brought me to him, I had taken a step back at his simple size. He was massive - a beast better equipped to haul cargo from the ships than carry around a silly, little girl like me. Robb's eyes had caught on mine, a small smirk teasing his lips as he tightened his own saddle. There had been a daring glint there, a well-hidden laugh just under that little twist of his mouth.

It infuriated me and embarrassed me all at once.

He knew. I knew he knew that I had trepidations about riding a small thing like my previous mount. But this juggernaut was terrifying.

The carthorse had given a rough huff, sending my curls blasting away from my face as I walked unsteadily around him. His eyes watched me as well, going over my face in a way that made me think that he was very, _very_ unimpressed. And that alone made me feel smaller still.

"We call him Pie." I stared at the barrel of a man who had waddled up to me, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tunic. Pie wasn't the name that I would have chosen. Perhaps… Destroyer or Dragon Eater. Possibly even Big Scary Horse with Giant Teeth - Scary for short. Catching my speculative gaze, the gruff man gave a grin. "He smashed in the head of a couple of those bastards who ambushed us. Looked like we were trying to make a nice cherry pie."

Ah. That made sense. My stomach turned as I stared down at the glistening hooves beneath impressively powerful legs. Yes, I could see how those ruined someone's body. He looked like he could smash down a whole house with those things.

I shivered as I stared down at Pie's corded neck, his whole body a chunk of muscle. And they had thought it best to put me on him. If anything, he should be upfront guarding my husband.

"Your grace." I blinked, glancing away from the beast I'm currently perched atop. We had made our way slowly but surely across the first of a series of mountain passes, making our way into the depths of the Vale. We would be there in no less than a day's time and my husband fully intended to ride it out.

"Is there trouble?" I inquired, noting the messengers' frazzled gaze. He really was a young lad, his voice barely cracking with adolescence.

"No, my lady. His grace just wishes to receive news of your health." I blinked.

"Pardon…" I started slowly, noting the rising color in the poor messenger's face. "However, weren't you just here a moment ago inquiring the same thing?"

"I…" He floundered, his face going scarlet before he finished lamely. "Yes."

My head snapped forward, catching my husband's furtive gaze, his head turned fully to glare down from his impressive distance ahead. It almost seemed… like he cared if I was comfortable or not. My lips thinned, confusion narrowing my eyes. Or he was trying to irritate me. From this distance, I could barely make out the way his eyes scanned over me, taking in the weary slump of my shoulders.

Or maybe… I didn't glance away from the imposing figure as I slowly rolled the idea around. "Tell him I'm in agony. My spine is on fire and I feel like I might throw up."

These were all in fact true. Although Chaos had given me my life, she hadn't actually taken away the injuries I had sustained. My ribs were still a yellowish-green that made even Skipperth to wince. But nothing was broken and I could draw in a breath without feeling like I was fighting a tug of war with my lungs.

I kept my eyes on the messenger as he kicked at his horse flank, sending him skittering back up the ever-winding path to the king, letting Pie do all of the work. He was a smart horse and didn't particularly like it when I tugged on his reigns. If anything, he responded more to me actually telling him what I wanted, tapping his neck in whichever direction I needed.

"Are you really in some sort of pain, lassie?" I glanced around to see that one of the burlier soldiers had perked up, his eyes worried as they ran over me. That was surprising. Most of Robb's soldiers had shied away from me when I had emerged from my fever. On my first walk, I had stumbled upon a small grave that had even been dug out in a meadow just a walk away. Caitlyn had tried to tug me from it, her face twisted into one of agony and pity. Pity for me, I had realized. Pity for the grave that they had dug out to place me in when they couldn't wait on me to heal.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, turning fully to face the soldier that had spoken to me.

"We're all in a bit of pain, Brodin," I mused, taking in the open discomfort on everyone's face, the worn tilt to their shoulders. Food hadn't been hard to come by but sleep had been. In the night, shadows turned into monsters. "My discomfort is of no difference than anyone else's."

A knowing smile tilted his lips, the skin around his eyes crinkling as they turned to just over my shoulder. "I donna think the king agrees, mah lady."

My brows furrowed, trying to work around whether he was mocking me or… I turned slowly, the scuttle of rocks and hooves breaking the crisp silence of the mountain. Ahead of me, Theon had straightened, a frown marring his face as he whipped around to glare at me.

"Oh, you've done it now," he snipped, turning swiftly back around to face the group of men that were making their way carefully but swiftly down the small path that the messenger had taken.

At their lead was Robb, a deep scowl darkening his face, his auburn curls whipping in the brisk air as he reigned in his horse. A few of his advisors followed behind him, curiosity evident in their quirked brows.

"You are unwell, my lady?" He was out of breath, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes as he wheeled his horse around to keep step beside me. I glanced forward, my cheeks heating as I realized exactly how much of a spectacle we were making. Almost everyone ahead was stealing glances at us even as the party continued forward. "Irrello says that you've been feeling sick."

"Robb, really…" I started to whisper, tapping Pie's flank so that he could sidle up to Robb's mount. The two horses eyed each other wearily, knackering as they sized each other up. His horse was leaner than mine, made for speed and agility with longer legs, bringing him to almost Pies' height. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"

Robb's brows furrowed in confusion, those blue eyes flicking around quickly before he was turning back to me. "I was told you were unwell," he said.

"I'm not," I snapped, feeling an uncomfortable itch starting at the back of my neck. The truth was that I didn't feel all that great. My ribs had long since gone numb, every jostle tipping my level of pain up a notch until my whole body sang. My muscles burned from gripping Pie's flank so tightly and my head spun weakly from the lack of water and food I had had from my days of unconsciousness. I still couldn't stomach a full meal and this journey was taking a massive toll on me.

"You're lying," he bit out, looking unreasonably irritated by that fact. His hands reached out impatiently, tugging at my waist.

"What in the seven are you doing, Robb?" I hissed, slapping at his wrists as he readjusted and got a better hold on my hips.

"I should have just had you ridden with me from the start," he growled and I squealed as he yanked me off of Pie and onto his lap. His eyes blazed down at me as I wobbled, trying to get my balance on the new mount. "But you're stubborn and I knew you wouldn't come."

"You are damn right I wouldn't," I snarled, glaring up at him as I tried to wiggle my way off. Pie was stomping his hooves, looking more and more irritated that I had been pulled from him as a few of Robb's advisors tried to calm him. "You're insane if you think it is proper for a bride to ride at the front with her-"

"Damn the rules." His teeth flashed threateningly as he stared down at me, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He was mad. The icy depths of his eyes swirled darkly. "You will stay with me until the end of this journey." I opened my mouth, drawing in a breath to protest but his hand tightened on my waist. "This is final, Willa."

I could feel the corded muscles in his arms tightening and rolling as he wheeled his mount, kicking her into starting the long trek to the front once more. Behind me, Pie gave an indignant bay and I turned to catch a glimpse of my terrifying mount as he tossed his head, his eyes furious.

"Bring him with us!" Robb shouted back, sending an irritated glance back to his advisors. "He'll only get worse if he's not with Willa. She has that effect." He whispered that last part as if to himself, glaring down at me as if it were _my_ fault. A few of the men we passed covered their chuckles with a dry laugh.

"You're insufferable," I spluttered out, huffily adjusting my skirts so that I could sit more comfortably on his mount. Unlike men, women took a significant amount of time to get ready to ride. We had a lot more to deal with within the area of clothes and it took a lot of time to make sure that our petticoats weren't showing.

"Are you agitated, darling?" he drawled, clearing undisturbed by my irritation. "Then I suppose my work is done."

I growled softly, choosing to stare moodily ahead than to answer him. He would only make me more frustrated anyway - it was his way with me. I would ignore him, I decided. That was the only way to handle this - the only -

His hand tightened on my waist as his horse went over a particularly rocky part of the path. How was I supposed to ignore him when he was so… present? Heat prickled my neck as I felt the warmth radiating off of him. His unique smell was all too intoxicating and it made a weird fluttering start in my stomach. I could feel his every breath and as the horse rocked I realized that my rump was shoved back against him.

Discreetly, I tugged my dress over my knees, inching forward on the saddle until there was a decent amount of space between us. My jaw set as I realized that this would be the most agonizing ride she had ever gone on. I winced as my back straightened, trying to draw out the distance even more.

"Your grace-" I started, trying to reason with him as I caught a few glances from the soldiers we were passing.

"You'll have your independence when you're well, wife," Robb snapped, grunting as he tugged me back into the warmth of his chest. His hand spanned my stomach as he kept me there, nudging his nose against mine in a way that made my heart beat too quickly. "For now, rest."

"But I-" I started again, trying to fight against the warm expanse of his chest against my back and the way that he made me feel safe and cared for.

"Rest." With that, he nudged my head down onto his shoulder, one hand gripping my waist securely while the other held the reigns in a confident grip. It sounded like an order and although he infuriated me, I found myself obeying him. Why was that?


	16. Order

Someone was whispering to me. Someone wanted to find me.

"Get out, you little brat." My second mother wanted to find me but she was slow. I could hide from her for as long as I needed to. I turned farther into the small space just beneath one of the cutting board tables, turning so that I wouldn't have to see her stilted gait stumble past me.

She was weak. Only weak women laid their hands on children. That was what Corlin said anyway. If he knew that I was hiding from her right now he wouldn't probably be furious.

Darkness greeted my eyes as I turned further and further into the corner. My brows furrowed as I itched forward some more. There was a lot of room under here.

"I can smell you, Willa." A chill ran up my spine as my fingers chilled, small snowflakes melting on my nails. That voice. I gulped down a breath, squeezing my eyes shut. I knew that voice.

"I'm going to gobble you up!"

I jolted forward, suddenly rolling, snow, bitterly cold and agonizing smashing into my face over and over again. I was careening down a hill, the snow catching at my skirts and bodice until I couldn't tell what was fabric and what was skin or ice. Behind me, a cackle broke through the still, white sky sounding like the smash of bricks meeting a hard hammer and the whisper of silks against skin.

I gasped as I finally came to a stop, shivering as the cold finally hit me. What had happened? Wasn't I in the kitchen hiding from..? My teeth chattered as I forced my way up, my heart beating unsteadily as I finally looked around and found white - white for as far as the eye could see.

My head spun as I tried to pull myself to my feet, my legs sinking down in the dense snow up to my calves. I grimaced. I had two options: sit here and wait or try to make my way through this to a safe place. That really wasn't much of a choice at all. Grunting and grimacing, I started my gruesome trudge through the harsh terrain.

White. White at every turn - no sign of the ground beneath. The shadows that played along the hills and ridges were the only burst of color. Even the sky was a dismal white that nearly faded into the snow below.

Still, I trudged on, not entirely sure why I was here and with the vague feeling that I wasn't entirely here at all. One moment I would close my eyes and the next I would open them and feel as if I had circled back to the beginning. My thighs burned and my toes had gone a purplish black that should have distressed me more than it actually did. Sweat dribbled cooly down my back, a few drops turning to ice on their way down. My skirts had grown heavy with frozen water and every step grew heavier and heavier.

Was I going to die here? Did I really even care?

"You've come." I blinked, startled by the sudden burst of noise. Was I imagining it?

I blinked again and the whole world shuddered, the sky suddenly very dark compared to the ground. When had it become dark? I swear it had just been daylight. My steps stuttered and then stopped altogether.

In the ebony darkness of the sky, stars twinkled, bursts of green making it look like some had lit Wildfire. The snow gleamed like crystals beneath it, glimmering as the sky above swirled in a purplish tidal wave before wavering and sizzling back to Wildfire.

A few feet away, a pond rippled in the light wind, looking stark and out of place against the mountains of snow around it. I stared in wonder as the surface rippled, reflecting the sky above like a mirror, making the stars look as if they were dancing. It looked closer to bolts of silk than a body of water.

"Daughter of Bone Breakers, first of her name." My knees buckled at the voice, hearing it somewhere deep in my mind instead of with my ears. As I watched, the water rippled and the pulsed, quivering. Slowly, a mass of wild, ebony curls appeared and then the slow, sly face of a woman. She stepped from the water like she was floating instead of moving, her mass of hair poofing around her like a cloud, slithering down to cover her bare breasts.

Golden bangles adorned her wrists, slithering up to kiss beneath her elbows. Beads tinkled along her hips and neck, giving way to splatters of body paint that looked crude and gleamed white against her ebony skin. Glittering gold pins sat like stars in her hair. But far from the beauty of her body, it was her eyes that grabbed me and held me down like a flailing newborn. They were a milky grey, undoubtedly blind as they stared blankly ahead. Strips of that same whitish paint ran vertically down her eyes, ending sharply at her cheekbones.

She didn't come any closer to me, lingering so that the water lapped at her waist.

"This isn't a dream, is it?" I whispered, sitting heavily back on my haunches.

Her expression stayed decidedly blank, her eyes staring off into the distance and her face strangely serene. Had she heard me? I opened my mouth to speak again.

"Why do you come to my land?" I blinked, glancing around. She had to be asking me this but I didn't entirely know how to respond. As if hearing my inner struggle, she cocked her head, the only sign that she registered anything since her face still remained decidedly blank. "You are here for the things that were given and taken by the same hand. You are here for answers."

She sighed the last word, something like relief caressing that one word. Something in the back of my head clicked. "You are Order, aren't you?"

"Your people call me many things," she mused, her hair ruffling in a breeze for a moment before settling back around her. "Ruler of truths. The scale and the sword. Divine goddess of law and order. Choose one. I answer to them all."

"I didn't come here of my own free will," I hedged, shivering as another gust of wind whipped the matted tangle of curls into my eyes. Chaos' home was a cottage in the village compared to this place. The winds were unforgiving and they tore at my clothes. "I - I think Chaos might have sent me here."

"Chaos," she rolled the word around like a cat playing with a marble. Where Chaos was fire and brimstone, Order was ice and stone. I would freeze here before she allowed me to leave, I realized. Order was a slow, tedious master - one that bided it's time until things were just so. "You came to her lands dying." Her face didn't twitch even slightly as she spoke. "And she gave you your mortal life. She has always been so swayed by mortal affairs." Did that mean that Chaos was the charitable one of the pair? Oh no. "But in my land, if you wither away, your immortal soul will follow."

My body was shaking almost uncontrollably now, making the world vibrate with me. "You-you'd let me die - die?"

Something beat at the back of my brain, something quiet and warm.

Order's head tipped to the side, her milky eyes expressionless. "My duty is to judge the soul. You are to be weighed, Willa Stark. Let us hope that you will be found worthy."

That beating was getting stronger. It was almost roaring, dragging along my skull until it felt more like an animal than a noise. Something was… something wanted to get out of me. Something bad. Something uncontrollable.

"She-she told me that you needed my help-" I bit out the words, each cruder than the last. I was so cold that I could barely think. "She told me that the order was unbalanced - that _you_ were growing weaker."

For once, amusement curled her lips, a scoff forcing its way up. "And what will _you_ do? I was with you, you know. All those years ago when you took on your mother's household. Who do you think blessed you at night - made sure that your father and his many wives didn't skin your pretty back bare with the whip? Do you think you did that all by yourself? Or your precious puny gods? What were their names? The Stranger or perhaps the...virgin?"

It was jarring to think of it like that. To think that all of the things that I had been burdened with had all been blessed somehow. That I didn't do anything on my own. That I was a pawn from the very beginning.

"What did you want then?" I spat, anger starting to rise in me like a fire. I wasn't cold anymore even though my teeth rattled with it and my hands couldn't unclench from it. My eyes burned into her beautiful face. "Did you want me to worship you? Bow down at your feet?"

A tinkling laugh rattled the water around her. "Oh my, no. My sister and I are far from what you mortals worship. Do you think that the real holders of your fate care enough to walk beside you in the darkness? Do you think that they care about your mud altars and rotting food offers? Why allow humans to kneel at an alter when it's so easy to force them down into the mud yourself?"

My throat clogged, something like fear rising inside of me. Chaos was the better mistress. I could feel this death trap slowly closing around me. I needed to do something. I needed to get out of this.

"You need me," I bayed, crumpled into a ball in the snow, unable to right myself.

"And why would I need such a weak, scared little thing like you?" Her head tipped to the side, her face once again emotionless.

"Because I can see the chains around your wrists," I hissed, those delicate loops finally popping out at me. At first, they had blended into the water, they were so fragile. Now I could see them - a million tiny strings like a spider's web all circling her golden bangles.

Beneath me, the ground shook, the snow quivering and the beautiful woman in front of me jerked, her head flopping a bit on her shoulders, the hair around her wilting for a moment before she was straightening again and it clouded around her once more. Something like bile stung my throat. When I was very little, my father had allowed me to go see a puppeteers play. There had been a moment before the act started where the puppeteer had shimmied his hand up into that cloth shell. It reminded me of what had just happened.

Like this was all a shell and deep beneath me, there was something watching, playing this gruesome act out with me. Shivering, I forced my hands open and dug beneath the thick layer of snow until I reached something hard and unforgiving. _Soil_. Where there was soil there had to be plants and where there were plants I was pretty sure that there was also a way for me to defend myself.

"You're weak," Order hissed, her eyes luminous as she hovered in her body of water. Why water? Did she need to stay in it? I blinked, she hadn't gone forward enough for me to see her lower half. Maybe the Order's true form was just beneath that. "How could my sister possibly think that you're the one to restore the balance?"

My mind reached out, catching on the veins of sleeping plants just beneath me. Letting out a breath, I rooted around some more, reaching deep inside to that hidden well of power that I had felt before. I could use it. If I just concentrated, I could sharpen it enough to - _to what?_ An angry voice seethed. _What's going to happen when you attack a goddess? What's going to happen if you're actually able to knock her out for a bit? Where are we going to run?_ I let out a hiss, pouring water on that voice as the plants beneath me gave a wither of response at my cajoling. One problem at a time.

Desperately, I reached out, closing my eyes as I felt the vines beneath me respond, tunneling deeper into the soil, burrowing their way to the edge of the water. Distantly, I could hear Order ranting on, her face still twitching every now and then as if someone was poking out at the skin from beneath. Yes. There was something there. My vines withered closer, crawling along the water's edge. Like a beacon of light that kept pulsing with energy.

"What are you doing?" My eyes snapped open, something like fear withering through me. Beneath the water's edge, my plants shivered, pressing further into the muck at the bottom. Order's head rested at an odd angle on her shoulders, her whole body slumping to the side like a used marionette. Still her eyes stared blankly at me, her mouth gaping open. "What are you doing, little, scared girl?"

My mouth went dry, something running along the feelers that I had sent toward the real Order. The one that was lurking just beneath the surface. I was caught. Dryly, I swallowed.

"Feeling at your strings," I whispered, my voice breaking as the puppets head flopped uselessly on it's shoulders. "You don't seem to be all that pretty beneath the surface."

Stillness. Silence. Even my vines stopped withering, the water growing still. The puppet's arms shivered, her fingers twitching sporadically. And then her mouth was opening wider, wider until there was a click and it twisted out and unhinged itself from her jaw. The ground shook with her scream, the water ripping and crashing against the icy shore. Her grey, unseeing eyes gaped wide, her body slumping forward as thick black tentacles pounded onto the banks of the pond.

I didn't have time to scream as they rushed toward me. I barely have time to throw up my hands, my body aching as I desperately called for the vines just beneath me.

My body rolled as turned soil and snow knocked me back a foot or two, a tangle of vines ripping from the ground to curve into a wall over me. The tentacles from the lake rushed forward, ripping at my meager barrackade, forcing the breath from my lunges. Slamming my hand back to the ground, I pressed my palm to the ground, whispered words forcing their way from my lips. More vines tangled with the ones already in front of me but it was useless. Already they were bowing under the force of each hit.

"Did she tell you what comes with this power, _little flower_?" I gasped, biting back a scream as that voice rang through my head, sounding like the whistle of the wind or the scream of dying horses. It was elemental and raw in its insistence. My hands shook as another hit ripped at my small little shelter, pain lancing across my back. Shakily, I brought a hand back, feeling along the damp back of my corset

"What..?" Red coated my fingers dribbling down my wrist and dying the snow beneath me. Another blow tore at my vines, drawing a grunt from my lips as something slit along my back. I blinked, fighting back the tears.

"You are broken, Willa Frey." That same voice simpered.

Anger bubbled in me. I hated this bitch. And I wanted to tear her down

"I'm a Stark now," I snarled, curling my hands into the vines in front of me and _pushing_. My vines shot along the long expanse of the tentacles until I felt the bulbous slot of flesh that hid beneath the pond's surface. An otherworldly scream pierced the still, cold air as I felt my vines break through the fleshy exterior into the gooey center. Gritting my teeth, I dug a hand into the soil I had dug into, a cry ripping from me as my intestines curled. Roots burst from below the pond, piercing that mass of goo from below.

My muscles shook from the exertion, straining. Darkness seeped into the corner of my vision as I held my arms as steady as possible, biting down on my lips until I bled. I had to stay awake. I had to force away the exhaustion that was making my whole body shake. It felt like I had just climbed a mountain and now I was free falling from the edge.

I wanted to give into that urge to just close my eyes with the fall instead of clawing at the air. My fingers tingled as I felt a dribble of blood slip down my chin and on the other side of my barricade, I felt the dying twitch of the creature that I had impaled.

Which was good since I was definitely going to pass out soon. With a groan, the vines around me collapsed, exposing the shivering tentacles to my eyes and the overturned snow. Collapsed in the pond just beyond, Order's poof of star dusted hair fanned around her, her face slumped into the water.

Dizzily, I slammed to the ground, my cheek growing painfully number as I tried to keep my eyes open. My back was ripped open, blood oozing from the flayed flesh there. I could feel it warming the snow beneath me, turning it into water. That was a bit of a blessing, I thought dismally and then I had to laugh. Laying here in the cold, closer to death than I thought I ever had been, this was probably the sorriest blessing in the whole world.

My eyes drifted shut. I would miss Robb. My throat got tight, my heart beating painfully along with the ripped skin at my back. I wished I could kiss him once more.

"Well, that was very informative." A shiver of complete terror crashed down on me, making me choke as I opened my eyes. Blinking across the expanse of snow and water, the beautiful form of Order cocked her head, her eyes wide and inquiring. My heart pumped unevenly, my lunges working harshly as I tried to move - get up, roll, _something_. My fingers spasmed, the vines lying limply all along the bank of the pond withering with my horror.

"You have been judged and found worthy," Order said, her face as expressionless as before. Slowly, the tentacles still beached on the snow around me recoiled, going back to that black mass that I had seen before. "You are strong enough to defeat most humans - although that seems to be where your strength ends. Which is well enough, I suppose."

I gave a snarl, baring my teeth at the goddess before me. She broke me - ripped up my back to establish this bit of information. What would she do the next time she needed an explanation?

Her eyes blinked at me sluggishly. "You will continue on and when the time comes-"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" The question came out as a shriek, bursting from me before I could stop myself.

Order paused, staring at me with those blind eyes. "We request your services-"

"You have ripped me apart - you are goddesses. What could I possibly do for beings like you?" I spat. I despised these inhuman gods. They played with me, pulling at my life like a child with a toy.

"These matters lie in the human realm." Her hands opened, palms up to the sky in a gesture that suggested pleading but that completely opposed her expressionless face. "My sister and I can only guide events, we cannot take the balance into our own hands. While I grow stronger, Chaos remains shackled. She will be swallowed by me if there is not a resolution within the next decade."

"Decade?" I hissed. I could be waiting for up to ten years for this resolution to come. "What do you need from me? What could I possibly resolve?"

"You will need to kill someone," Order said simply and my blood ran cold. I had never - I shivered, bile rising in my throat. "But first you must train. You will not know your purpose until you are sufficiently prepared. It would be ineffective to make a pact with a human to simply have it fall through."

 _My purpose?_ I reigned in my rage.

"You may go now," Order said, sinking further into the water as I opened my mouth to speak again.

"Wait!" I called, frustrated. "How am I to master these skills? Why am I so hurt from using these powers?"

Orders chocolate skin seemed to glow with an inner warmth as she slid deeper into the ice-crusted pond, the hair swimming around her. "With every strength, there is a resulting sacrifice," she said simply, her words making my head spin.

"WAIT!" I cried but her mouth was covered already. "SHE SAID THAT YOU WERE GROWING WEAKER!"

 _Oh, little flower,_ a voice like the slide of paper and the sharpening of a dagger whispered to me. _She meant my will was weakening._

What? What did that even mean? Her blind eyes glowed with a luminous light before they disappeared completely beneath the water's surface.

Leaving me crumpled in the snow, the wind harsh and unforgiving as it cut through my meager clothing. How was I supposed to get back to the mortal realm? My fingers had gone black, my breath growing shallow. I wasn't bleeding as much anymore, just a guttered gurgle from my wounds. Was that good? I had a feeling it meant was dying.

The world spun, the sky above pulsing with those lights. I was… so… tired…

* * *

_Hey, my little cinnamon buns! So I know things are a little crazy right now with this virus but I just wanted to emphasize the point of coming back to the things that we love and just not letting the fear and uncertainty ruin everyday life. We still have so much to be thankful for and I for one, count you guys among those numbers._

_So yeah, I hope that this chapter brightens your day_


	17. The Keeper of the Vale

The Vale of Arryn was exactly how many described it and yet still surprising in an odd, almost morbid way. The guards were silent and watchful, friendly in an almost wooden way that a doll would be. Robb had grown quiet and stiff beside me, his gaze sharp and unforgiving as it constantly ticked around the room. His jaw was tight and his hands clenched as he seemed to shield me as we walked through the cold halls - which was rather impressive considering that he was walking slightly behind me.

I had woken from my meeting with Order, gasping, flailing as I rushed back into the mortal realm. Robb had held me to him until I eventually subsided, shivering in his arms. A small sting in my back was the only remnants of my struggle with the goddess. When I peeled off my clothes tonight, I was sure I would find red welts running along my back. I had told Robb that it was simply a nightmare but he seemed to hover, his eyes watchful even long after the ordeal.

"They come to my home," a flighty, chirping voice tittered, the voice bouncing off the walls and carrying to the haggard party that made up our company. Catelyn's eyes flitted around the open walls of the keep, the sky milky and dense beyond. She had grown more frayed the farther we had gone into the Vale. "I can smell them from here! Goodness, Petr!"

I resisted my initial shock, pushing down on an outward expression. Robb had a harder time of this. A low growl vibrated from him echoed louder by the direwolf that stalked beside him.

"Darling," a deep voice soothed and there was a slight accent there that I couldn't completely pin. Just behind Robb and I, I felt Catelyn draw up in attention. "They're here for help. It is your nephew and your sister."

"Catelyn," that voice chortled and beside me, Catelyn flinched at the malice that that high voice was able to put into that one name.

My lips thinned. I had severely misinterpreted this situation. As I neared the circular room that made up the greeting area of the keeper of the Vale, I started to truly understand the situation that I had been brought into. When we had passed through the Bloody Gates, the guards there attentive and weathered from weeks at that one post, I had started to get an impression of Catelyn's sister. When Robb had whispered to me the history of the Vale, the strategic positioning of all the guards and gates, as we made our way towards the main palace that impression had grown.

A strong woman had to keep these mountains. The running of it must be old in tradition and just as organized. Like a machine that needed to be oiled on a regular basis. Only a powerful woman could handle such a task.

I was terribly wrong.

"Oh, what an ugly mutt." Lysa Arryn was a bird-like woman with a gaunt, haggard expression that misled her actual age. Her hair was plaited and whisps of the familiar dark, auburn hair escaped the loose confines. Her gowns were thick and expensive, made in a fashion that suited the summer courts more than her winter home. The only thing that seemed to keep her from becoming a thin, little icicle was the thick cloak that hung heavily on her frail shoulders and the sweeping pile of furs that lined her throne and feet. Cuddled up in those furs, I saw the downy, brown hair of a little boy peeking out, curled into Lysa's side.

A swirling staircase that hugged the wall of the circular room led up to the twisted wood of Lysa's throne, an open balcony shielded by fluttering blue curtains just behind her. Benches circled a raised circular hatch just before the throne. I glanced at it curiously, the construction reminding me of a well. But we were too high up in the mountains for such things.

Standing just beside her like a servant waiting for the order of a master was a shrewd, little man with a goatee. His clothes were fine, much more lavish than any other servant that I had seen. By the way that Lysa was leaning towards him, it wasn't a far jump for me to assume that they were lovers.

And just beyond that, standing quietly behind the throne of Arryn was…

"Sansa," Robb breathed, his voice quivering with such emotion that I had to turn and check that it was really my husband. His eyes were cloudy, dazed as if something had just smacked him and he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or lucid.

The girl that he was speaking to was beautiful. Her eyes were a striking greenish-blue that contrasted with her fiery, red hair. Her face was somehow soft and hard at the same time, her lips full and pouty. At Robb's voice, her head raised slightly, a look of shock flashing across her face before she was stepping forward.

"Robb?" There was such hope and surprise in that name.

"My little girl," Catelyn choked out, a sob breaking through the room before she was rushing towards her daughter, both of them meeting in a swirl of skirts and tears at the bottom of the staircase. Robb was quickly behind her, rushing over to engulf them both in a tight embrace.

"Your daughter is quite a handful, sister!" that twittering voice chimed in as Catelyn smoothed the hair away from Sansa's brow with a soft smile. "I tried my best to impart some wisdom upon her but she is quite... stubborn."

Stubborn didn't seem to be the word Lysa wanted to use. From the way that Sansa's eyes flashed across the room at the woman, she probably wouldn't have used such mild-mannered words either.

Robb was the first to pull away, his gaze a mixture of pain and joy as he walked slowly back to me. His eyes met mine for a moment as he slid into his spot just beside me and the softness there nearly took my breath away. Catelyn was still murmuring to Sansa at the foot of the steps, her hands shaking as they constantly ran along her daughter's face or the whisps of hair that tickled her forehead.

"We appreciate all the help that you've offered us, Lady Arryn," Robb finally said, sounding like the words physically hurt him. "We are in your debt."

A loud titter was the only reply that was given to Robb's words along with a long, self-satisfied stare between Lysa's assistant and herself. My eyes drifted to Sansa and Catelyn once more, watching their tight embrace, how they clung to each other like two sheets of paper of the same book. A strange sort of deja vu made me dizzy for a moment and I missed my family once more with an ache that took my breath away.

"Is this lovely creature beside you your new wife?" I blinked away the pain as Lysa turned her wide, beady eyes towards me. Robb's eyes flicked to me briefly as all of the halls attention centered on me.

The rules of politics were very strict to those who didn't know them. It often reminded me of the game of whispers that my brother and siblings had once played when we were very small. One truth and two lies - the person that got it correct would become the keeper of all truths in the next game, keeping us all honest. Lies and truths, all mixed up into the same pot, put into one room with a variety of people and it was our job to pick through it all.

Luckily, I had been very good at the game of whispers.

"May I introduce you to Willa Frey of Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing and Riverrun, Lord Paramount of the Trident," Robb said it all in one breath, almost absently although the title was bulky and ridiculously long. My cheeks burned as a few of the guards around gave barely hidden chuckles. At least, I would know their opinion of me from the beginning.

"A long title for such a small river," the shrewd man beside Lysa chuckled and I bit down on my instinctive retort. I wasn't a fool. My fathers boasting was something of legends and his titles surely came from those same embellishments. However, I knew an insult when I heard one and this wasn't a friendly jab.

My eyes flicked around, catching the derisive sneers that were being directed at us and the tension in Robb's body as his eyes flashed with barely reigned anger. Lysa's lips were pulled back in a leer that surely had everything to do with her sense of power. Which the shouldn't have at the moment. Our introduction into her house was not fitting our status and the way that she was sitting above us in that ridiculous throne said everything that she hadn't. And that was really starting to irritate me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Theon's hand move slowly to the pommel of his sword. Standing above us all around Lysa, I saw the guards do the same. We were in a very delicate situation. There would be no winning this battle for us with our seriously depleted company and how tired we were from our travels. Quickly, I reached out for my plants but we were very high in the mountains and I was weak from my battle with Order.

And the man beside Lysa made me uneasy.

I let out a loud giggle, the sound breaking through the room with a force that made everyone jump. There were more than a few who were looking at me like I had lost my mind. I forced myself to laugh more, clutching my stomach.

"Oh dear me! And here I thought that our rivers ran so far along the Riverlands that not a soul could cross without bidding our toll!" I wiped away the tears with a daring grin up Lysa and her little assistant. When she was startled she looked surprisingly like a preening bird, her face pulled back in a way that made her neck and shoulder seem like one unit. It was the expression on her assistant's face, that slick, calculating gaze that reminded me of some great, slimy beast blindly feeling out its surroundings that made me push my act. "Silly me! I always did think that out governess was telling us lies when I was growing up. Nasty lot - governesses. They feed the children such lies and the parents are none the wiser."

It was a stab in the dark but one that I needed to take. My eyes stayed trained on Lysa as her posture straightened before loosening. No mother who wasn't overprotective and paranoid would let her child sleep beside her on the throne. Most would have sent their infants away with a Sept to bed while she completed the daily duties of a ruler. But Lysa was that paranoid and overprotective and she gave me exactly what I wanted.

"Yes, darling," she chirped, smiling down at me. "I completely agree with you! That's why I would never let my Robin be taught by one of them. They tell such horrendous lies!" Her gaze moved to Robb and she gave him a small smile. "You've picked a smart one, Your Grace."

Robb's eyes were on me when he answered, his words nearly too soft to hear. "Yes. I believe I have."

We were led to a large room with no windows. There was a private bathroom with a tub sunk into the stone ground, freshwater pumped from the boiler room below. The Vale was so large that the footman who was attending us informed us that the late lord had installed a pumping system. Say what you would about the current keeper of the Vale but she knew how to furnish the Vale.

Everything was done in a variety of blues from a deep periwinkle that the bathroom towels were made of to the darkest of blueberry tones for the bed. A honey throw was laid across the thick blankets of the bed to a add a splash of color. An ornate sitting area was placed just in front of the fireplace made of the same blues

Robb stood by silently through the attendant's detailed account of the history of the Vale and our future schedules. I played along, giving vague, bubbly comments that he would surely report back to Lysa. It was best to seem as empty minded as possible, I had quickly found.

Some women liked to find intelligence in other women. But women like Lysa wanted only the surface to show. There was nothing deeper than the basic emotions and feminine logic of embroidering and motherhood. I could use that to my advantage. I could make her like me and completely block anything that that little man who was by her side, might whisper to her.

She was absolutely besotted with him, I had quickly realized and when I had found out that he was, in fact, the infamous Petry Baelish, my instincts had spiked. We were in very dangerous territories.

"Lady Arryn offers her apologies," the attendant finally said, bowing slightly. "Your arrival was unexpected and Lord Baelish and herself have already planned another course of events for the evening."

My eyes narrowed, the ditzy smile that I had plastered on my face stiffening. My eyes moved to Robb who had turned just as angry. Grey Wind's hackles raised.

It was an obvious slight.

"Interesting," Robb said and his low words made the attendant flinch from his bent position.

I gave a giggle, trying to diffuse the situation. "If we weren't family, we would take that as a slight!" Robb's stormy gaze moved to me, his jaw hard as our gaze met. I let out another giggle, moving closer so that I could wrap around his arm. "As it is, Lady Catelyn has talked a great deal about her lovely sister and nephew so we'll take it more as consideration for our long journey and exhaustion."

"Ye-yes, milady," the attendant stuttered, his head still bent low. The guards that had followed us to our room, shifted nervously at the door to our bedroom.

"I'm sure that she has a feast planned for tomorrow, my love," I cooed up at Robb, my arms tightening on his as I watched the ice in his gaze thaw a bit. "You are the King of the North, after all!"

A low, quivering breath escaped the man who still remained bent in front of us as we waited for Robbs' answer. Silently, our eyes did battle. He was such a direct man, I was sure that he would much prefer to storm to Lysa's chambers and demand a proper welcome.

Finally, his voice low, he spoke. "My wife knows how to persuade me. Usually, I would have replied to these insults with a bit more anger."

"I apologize for any slight," the attendant whimpered, his eyes flicking to where Grey Wind snarled from just behind us. "Is there any other services that I can attend to while I am here? A warm meal will be served shortly after my departure to your chambers."

I grinned. "Just one more question - Oh, do rise. I like to see a man's eyes when I speak to him." Slowly, the twitchy man straightened, sweat glistening on his brows. Poor man. I wondered briefly if he had to apologize for his lady's impolitness often. "My husband and I have just been married and are hoping for an heir very soon…" I let that sink in for a moment, noting the deep ruddy color of the attendants cheeks and the way that Robb was staing down at me - like I had cracked my lid. "Will there be many guards roaming the halls? I'm rather… _vocal_."

I feigned embarrassment, giving a nervous giggle. In all honesty, I was only partially acting. It was degrading to have to seem like I regularly opened my legs for Robb.

"There-there," the attendant stuttered blinking rapidly as the guards behind him shared a knowing glance. "There will only be two guards stationed at your doors and the end of the halls."

My eyes met Robbs. Only four guards for the whole hall which included Catelyn as well as most of the rest of our party. That was a smaller amount than I had thought there would be. Although the Vale was so well positioned that I guess the guards were rather spread out. They had a wide distance to monitor.

Robb's eyes caught mine once more in a startling moment of understanding, the blue depths of them sparkling in the firelight. Briefly, his lips tipped up, making my heart give an irrational flutter.

Coughing, I whirled back to the nervous man who had begun to inch towards the door. "Well, you have been an utter delight! We truly appreciate your help-"

"And history lesson," Robb muttered blandly, earning him a quick glance from the attendant. Giving him an elbow to the side, I stepped forward with my birghtest smile.

"Do tell Lady Lysa that her decor is fantastic," I chirped, ushering him to the door with a gentle hand to his back.

When he reached the door, I stepped back, staring expectantly at the young attendant as he straightened his clothes and gave a light cough. The guards had moved to the side, taking up places on either side of the door even though they were eyeing me with skepticism.

"I will pass along your praise and your…" His eyes flicked to just over my shoulder where I could feel my husband looming. "Concerns?"

"Lovely," I hummed, nodding. "A cup of tea as well would be amazing."

I turned away with a wave, hearing the murmur of acknowledgment from the attendent before the doors were closing quietly behind me.

A single brow quirked as Robb stared down at me, his arms crossing.

"Yes?" I quipped, skirting around him to riffle aimlessly through our trunks that had been hauled up to the room. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Robb had let me take control today with nothing more than a sardonic, heavy lidded stare. He had been… _wonderful_.

"Have I told you that you're absolutely stunning?" His deep, gravelly whisper made me still, my hands clutching at one of the many ornate dresses that had been packed away. I blinked. I had pictured… something else when we were finally left alone. Maybe a bit more along the lines of: who did I marry? Followed by horror and disgust.

Blinking, I turned to stare up at his imposing figure, his gaze dark and serious, a few errant auburn curls slipping to whisper along his heavy brow.

"You're not mad?" I blurted out, my heart jumping at the sound of my own voice.

A corner of his lips tipped up, flashing a bit of straight, white teeth. "Perhaps a bit unhappy that those guards will be listening at our door tonight to try and catch a bit of your moans."

I blushed. "I was trying to-"

"See how many guards would be posted along our hall without raising suspicion," he finished, his eyes twinkling. "Yes. I know."

My cheeks grew warmer under his penetrating gaze. "And the meeting with Lysa…"

"Would have ended in a bloodbath if you had not played the fool," he whispered, crouching down so that we were eye level. Briefly, his eyes flicked to my lips before meeting my gaze again. "You're quite disarming when you fawn all over me."

I grimaced, wrinkling my nose. "In the next few days, I'm sure you will enjoy yourself immensely then, my lord."

The smile faded slowly from his face, leaving storm clouds. "I'm afraid that I've taken you to a very dangerous place, wife. Baelish's grip on my aunt is a lot stronger than I had assumed."

My brows furrowed as I thought about the thin man that had stood beside Lysa. Yes. Women like Lysa enjoyed being led by men. She liked to feel cherished and coddled - much the same as the way that I was sure she treated her own child. There was something a little off about the woman. Something that could be very dangerous to us in the long run.

I shook my head, forcing a strained smile. "Your sister was here as well. We would have had to face this sooner or later if we had wanted to visit her."

Those clear, blue eyes clouded for a moment, his brow knitting in worry as he considered. "I don't think that we'll be able to leave here easily, Willa," he said softly, his eyes open and honest. "Littlefinger has an unnatural attraction to the women of my family - like a gnat around the carcasses of an animal. He's just always...there."

His eyes were distant, turning towards the flickering flames of the fireplace. There was trouble in that gaze. And also weariness. He was tired of these battles, I realized. He wanted home, peace and warmth. My heart ached for him.

Those blue eyes snapped to me once more, a spark lighting. "Would you like to meet my sister?"

* * *

_Ah, the days are starting to go by slower and slower! The first week was cool but I'm the type of person that needs to get out and run and do work and kind of scrunch my time to feel comfortable. IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY, GUYS!_

_How are you guys doing? What are you doing to pass the time? I feel a bit like that show on netflix where you're put in a room and they drop you off a box of crayons and some coloring books to get you by. It's like... The Circle? Is that right? Anyway, leave me a review! I love hearing from you guys._


	18. A Flame in the Ocean

Robb liked being fawned over, I quickly found out.

"Are we going to move from this spot at any time, your grace?" I hissed into Robb's ear as one of his hands traveled dangerously low on my hips. The first thing that he had asked when we had exited the room was where the nearest balcony was. And then he had proceeded to drag me toward the opposite end of the castle while I had had to cuddle up to him. All the while, this smug expression had been plastered onto his face, his eyes glittering with enjoyment.

"I was merely trying to sell the act," he murmured, turning his body so that I was blocked in against the balcony railing, the night frigid and endless in the distance.

A shuffle of furs and metal drew my eyes to the little bit of the entrance that I could see around Robb's shoulders. The Vale guards had led us all around the castle, standing quietly but with expressions that suggested that they were babysitting toddlers instead of entertaining the King of the North.

Although my constant tittering surely wasn't helping that image. To sell the act, I clung onto Robb, commenting on random things like the ridiculous chandelier in the corridor or the "pretty" weapons that hung around a room that was surely used for strategic planning in war times.

"I'm sure that we can _sell this_ in a different manner, Robb," I whispered sarcastically, resisting the fluttering of my heart as Robb frowned slightly, his gaze flicking back to the guards quietly waiting for us by the entrance. He shifted a bit closer to me, the hard leather of his outfit pressing into my front as he completely eclipsed my vision.

He was ruggedly handsome against the snowy mountains, his curls chaotic in the bitter wind with downy lashes that made his crystal eyes seem bright and alive. Something had lit in him since he had found his sister, some of that rubble that made us his frowns and silences seem softer. A man like this could take a woman's heart with a glance alone.

His lips tipped up, full and inviting as his teeth flashed. "I'm just as sure that the other ways that you speak of aren't as enjoyable."

Without thinking, I reached for him, running a hand over the sharp lines of his cheekbone, down to the slight beard that tickled his jaw. My body ached for him, I realized breathlessly as his eyes swirled with darkness, his head tipping closer.

My interest in men didn't go very far. In the past, I had been able to dissuade myself before my emotions piled on like this. But… Robb was different. He made me think stupid thoughts. He reduced me to a base urge that was almost terrifying. I wanted him. I wanted him in a primal, animalistic way that made me shiver and burn so hotly that I thought I might one day catch fire without realizing.

Robb's eyes had gone a stormy grey, his lids drooping as he stared intently down at me. Something in him seemed to coil tighter his body curling around me until I couldn't feel the wind anymore just the raw heat of him. He wanted me to kiss him, I realized. He wasn't going to move until...

Thoughtlessly, I tipped forward, going up on my toes so that I could press my lips to his. His mouth was on mine and I couldn't think, I couldn't even breath. Something bright and hot burned inside of me. He shuddered, a noise of pain and hunger ripping from him, rumbling through me. My skin tingled as he deepened the kiss, my back hitting up against the balcony as he crowded me back, one of his hands coming to grasp my curls as the other slid over my waist, hauling me closer.

If I was thinking before, it all stopped in the moment that he let out an agonized murmur against my lips, his teeth nipping at my lower lip. I pushed back against him, clawing at his shoulders, my other hand curling into the soft mess of curls at his nape. I wanted him to never leave me. I wanted him to stay against my lips until the world fell apart. I wanted… I wanted so much that I let out a soft yell, nearly sobbing as he ate that sound from me, his tongue meeting mine.

"Gods, you could destroy any man," he said gruffly against my lips and I was utterly intoxicated. Moaning, I tugged him closer, stretching so that I could just kiss him once more. All I needed was one more kiss and I would be able to walk away from this man. His lips met mine softly, one rough hand cupping my cheek until he was all around me and when I opened my eyes, our mouths still grazing each other, there was only the icy storm of his eyes.

"I - I'm s-sorry," I blurted out, trembling in his grip, unable to tell if it was because of the foul winds blowing across the balcony or the kiss that was still warming me. His hair was mussed, a tangled mess from where my fingers had dove into them. I had yanked him to me - I looked away, embarrassment beating through me. Like a harlot. I had jumped on him like some kind of wanton whore. It was embarrassing. Worse, it was terrifying, having this man control me like this.

"Willa," Robb whispered, tilting my chin up, his gaze wide and earnest. "What are you apologizing for?"

My mind scrambled. Jumping on you? Showing you how much you enchant me? Letting you see the power that you have over me?

Instead what came out of my mind was raw and stung my throat as it came out. "Getting carried away. I shouldn't have let things go so far when it's only a game."

I bit down on my tongue, staring off at the whirling snow and hard rocks of the mountain. Slowly, his fingers slid away from my face, that hard expression taking place as his jaw tightened.

"Why do you always lie?" The words were spoken so softly that I almost missed them. I whipped around, staring up at Robb's sober expression. His eyes searched mine. "I see it in your eyes. Or the way that you hesitate for a second before you speak them. Or the way that you seem so surprised when they come out of your pretty, little mouth."

I shivered as his eyes rolled with anger. "I don't know what you mean."

His lips tipped up but there wasn't any humor in his eyes. "There it is again. A lie." Robb's fingers ran softly over my lips, his thumb rubbing along my lower lip for a moment like he could erase it from existence with his touch alone. "You've lied to me since the first time we met. Even then I knew but I thought that maybe if we…"

He shook his head, his brows furrowing in an expression of frustration. I didn't know what to say. A million things were stuck in my throat - how I never meant to lie to him, how I was only keeping a secret so that he wouldn't be driven away, how I told lies to keep us both safe from whatever was growing between us. Instead, I stood there mutely while he back away, running a frustrated hand through his hair before turning away.

"Come," he muttered, turning. "Meet my sister."

The wind was harsh without him near, I realized, shivering.

* * *

The room that Sansa Stark was staying in was just a corridor away from ours. A fact that I quickly found that Robb knew since he led the way to her room.

Her doors weren't guarded by anyone which I found extremely disturbing for a possible ruler of the North if her brothers were all unable to.

"Honey," I called sweetly, smiling flirtatiously up at Robb as he turned with a quirked brow. Robb still wasn't completely through with our earlier argument but he would never ignore me - a fact that made it extremely hard to grow irritated with him. I tugged him down by the collar, giggling.

"Oh, by the Seven," one of the guards grumbled, stalling out a few feet from us.

"They go at it like two bunnies in a sack," his companion grunted as Robb's arm curled around my waist, drawing me flush to him. His head tipped closer to mine.

"Your sister…" I started, unsure of how to proceed. I glanced away from his penetrating gaze. "Do you trust her?"

I could feel the resulting shock jerk through his body. "What does that mean?"

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip. "Littlefinger shouldn't be underestimated-"

"Up to this point, I haven't underestimated any of my enemies," he bit out and I snapped around to glare up at him. His lips cocked in a smug smile. "Or did my military feats not reach your ears in that tower of yours." My fingers curled into fists in his collar, a low snarl working it's way up my throat. Robb's eyes crinkled at the noise, leaning a bit closer to whisper in my ear. "Remember that we have a rapt audience, darling."

Damn him. I forced out a choked laugh, refocusing on the main issue and not my sudden urge to strangle him. "She's been with him for a long while now - are you sure that you want to trust her with all of our secrets so soon?"

He pulled back, his blue eyes blinking down at me slowly for a minute. "You want my sister… to think… that I married a twittering imbecile?"

I gritted out a smile. "Not the words that I would use - but yes."

His brows furrowed. "You don't trust her?"

I blushed. "I don't know her."

"So you don't trust me?"

"What?" I stuttered, taken aback.

He glared down at me. "If you don't trust her then you're leaning on me for a statement of her character. And since my statement is that she is my sister and she would not be corrupted then the only answer is that you don't trust my word." His brows furrowed even more. "Correct?"

Heat seared my cheeks as I fumbled over words. He made a very good point. "I - I'm just trying to protect us."

His eyes swirled angrily. "This is my _sister_."

He was starting to really get me angry. If he would just think for one moment. There was too much at risk - too much that we could lose if we trusted the wrong person. Not only our positions but our heads. "Blood means nothing," I hissed up at him.

His eyes snapped. "Maybe in your family, Willa but in the North blood is the only thing that we have." Robb let go of me abruptly, pushing me away as he swept toward the tightly sealed doubled doors.

I stared at the flickering lanterns embedded into the stone walls of the Vale. Well, I guess that conversation was over. I turned, forcing a light smile to the guards as I swept in after him. My mind spun. Would I continue this farce against his will or cave beneath him blind trust? My stomach turned.

Slowly, I made my way into Sansa Stark's room, a woman who had been turned around King's Landing like a tournament trophy. My knowledge of her endeavors was short but horrid in it's simplicity. She had come to King's Landing in hopes of marriage to King Joffrey - an endeavor that had ended with the decapitation of Sansa's father and the beginning of a war that would send her family to the farthest depths of Westeros. Robb had struggled to the South in a desperate hope to see her again.

Her time in King's Landing was struck through with only a few newsworthy moments that had reached the Twin's by raven. A promise to Joffrey that had ended with the appearance of Margarey Tyrell. The quick secure of her loyalty with marriage to Tywin Lannister. And then the evaporation of that at her disappearance and the end of the war. Then there was nothing but the Vale for months.

"My beautiful, beautiful girl," Catelyn was whispering, a thin comb running through the long strands of her daughter's hair as they sat in front of the fire.

A heart shaped face turned, the firelight making her hair burn as it warmed her clear, porcelain skin. She was beautiful. So beautiful that it almost hurt to look at it. Robb's face was one of painful vulnerability as he rushed to her.

"Sister," he breathed as if this were the first moment of the reunion again. I drifted by the door, feeling awkward and out of place in the intimate moment.

"Oh, you look exactly as I remembered you," Sansa whispered, clutching at him as he picked her up and swirled with her in his arms. She pulled back, touching at the stubble on his jaw. "You need to shave."

"Ah, you know how the women love this look," he grunted, setting her down with a playful smile.

Her brow quirked in a way that made me sick. It looked too much like the way that Robb looked when he was being playful. "From what I've heard, you are only out to please one woman these days."

His smile was blinding as he turned to me, his eyes glittering as he extended a hand. He was so vulnerable. Crippling fear made it hard for me to breath as I drifted unsteadily forward. Anyone could tear him open and feast on him when he was like this. Panic made my mind go blank.

"HELLO!" I squealed out, giggling as I pranced forward, bypassing his hand to curl around his bicep. His eyes shuttered, his smile freezing. "My! I've heard so much about you but no one told me how pretty you were."

Sansa's smile grew stiff as she stared at me, clutching at her brother like an animal to a tree branch. From her seat at the fire, Catelyn's face had closed off, her lips pinching together. There was no way to explain away the simpering titter of my voice. No way that he could misinterpret my clinging. And in a way, it was a betrayal. But in another, it was the only way that I could protect him.

"Oh…" Sansa murmured, her gaze flicking uncertainly to her brother before she forced out an even brighter smile. "It's lovely to make your acquaintance, Lady Willa."

"Please!" I said, avoiding the hot gaze that Robb was sending me. "Call me your Grace!" I snorted, my mind reeling at the awfulness of the role that I had chosen. "That was a jest! Willa will do just fine."

Catelyn's smile had become almost painful, her eyes swirling with an emotion that I wasn't completely sure of. And I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I couldn't trust as my husband did. And ashamed that I cared when so much was at stake. I could feel it gathering up inside of me, pooling in the space between my lunges.

"I…" Sansa's face was tight, her words just as corded. "I am glad to meet you. The kingdom is very vocal about your match with my brother."

Without meaning to, I flinched. I could only imagine the things that the people of Westeros were saying. Something along the lines of my ineptitude and bad breeding with a mix of sympathy for Robb. Our match would be considered a weak one and I could only imagine the amount of attention that he would get from females when we finally arrived at Winterfell. My arms tightened around his.

"Vocal, yes…" I simpered, glancing up to meet Robb's stony gaze. Yes. He was very, very mad. And I wasn't sure I could blame him. Nervously, I patted his arm. He could either continue to play along or completely ignore my wishes. His eyes darkened.

"My wife doesn't like frivolous things like politics and strategic talk," he finally said, dryly, his gaze unhappy as he turned back to his sister. "She's happier in the company of-"

"Dresses!" I jumped in, giving an animated twirl. "Don't you love the color? I paired it with the leather and furs because that seemed to be the fashion of Winterfell. Don't you think it's splendid?"

It was an ordinary traveling gown and it was covered in dirt and horsehair from the journey here. It smelled absolutely atrocious and it looked about ten times worse. Lord, I was an absolute twit.

"Very," Sansa murmured, her eyes flicking almost sympathetically towards Robb - half call for help and half pity. Good. She hated me. She blinked a few quick flutters, swallowing before turning to her brother, completely shutting my side of the conversation down. "Have you been to Winterfell?"

"Not since the final battle," he murmured, his eyes swirling with a rigid sort of concentration. "Bran has written with the details of Winterfell's destruction."

"Bran," Sansa breathed, her eyes clouding with tears. "I had heard that he had been killed."

Robb's smile was gentle. "No. A few squabbles reached Winterfell and forced him out but our ally, Greatjon was able to find him and safely return Rickon and him home."

"That's wonderful," Sansa whispered, her words hitching as a few tears escaped. She shook her head. "I didn't think I would ever see you again."

Robb's smile grew stiff as he glanced to me. I had wandered a bit away, tinkering with shiny objects around the room. Beside the fire, Catelyn had kept a watchful eye on my progress. Now her head tipped towards her children.

"Sweetheart." Her eyes flicked uncertainly to Robb before she continued. "Bran isn't the same as before…"

Sansa's face went a lighter shade of grey, her mouth pinching. "I… I know that - none of us are the same… but he's alive."

"Yes," Robb whispered. "We just wanted to prepare you…" Silence, heavy and dark followed that all three Starks glancing to a different part of the room. Robb's blue eyes met mine, the pain there making me gulp back a breath, my chest tightening. How bad could Bran be to make them like this?

"My sister and Petyr?" Catelyn suddenly blurted, her face twisting into an expression of quiet pain. I turned away, fiddling with a set of earrings on Sansa's vanity.

"I can hear them through the walls at night," Sansa said blandly, looking highly unamused by the thought. I blushed. Were the walls really that thin? Lysa was a turn away down the hall. I blanched, thinking of my silly declaration to the attendant. Stupid, stupid girl. Robb looks less than enthused by the idea as well, his lips tipping down.

"Oh," Catelyn murmurs, her gaze turning back to the hearth. "Petyr has always been an ally to the Starks-"

"To you, mother," Robb cuts in with an eye roll. "He has pledged allegiance to you and only you, cutting down those around you so that he has a better view."

"In his youth, maybe," she gritted out, obviously irritated by Robb's statement. "Now he is pledged to my sister and so all affections towards me have therefore been diverted-"

"Mother…" Sansa's eyes flicked to me quickly. "I would tread lightly around Littlefinger."

"Honestly, you and your brother - even your father," Catelyn huffed, looking heavenward. "I've known him since we were children-"

"He's told me many times," Sansa said, her cheeks redden. "He's also made it clear that he could have also been my father."

Catelyn's eyes widened, her mouth gaping open. I winced. I was all too familiar with the sordid affections of a love-besotted man. My father would always yank me to him, grasping my chin. He whispered adorations to me - how my face was just like hers, my manner, my lips. He was crazed with the very thought of her. Robb's shoulders hunched, his face shuttering in rage so quickly that I could barely process it.

"I'll rip out his throat," he growled, wheeling towards the door, his hand going to the pummel of his blade.

"Robb!" Sansa gasped.

"Robb darling!" I yelped, jumping forward to scramble into his path. I stared up at him, his hulking form fuming. I forced a smile. "It would be impolite to rip out our host's throat."

"You say that like I care," he hissed, stepping to the side to try and get around me but I quickly blocked him.

"Lysa wouldn't like it!" I bit out, trying to force some reason into him with my eyes. His returning gaze was thunderous.

"I'll apologize afterward," he snarked back.

"There are more people here than just you," I snapped, giving him a shove. I glared up at him, my bubbly exterior bursting. "How many of your men will be killed if Lysa loses her prince charming? You idiot. Think of your people for one moment."

A long pause was all I got, Robb's expression extremely grumpy. Finally, with a huff, he turned, stalking to a chair to go and sulk. Catelyn was staring at me her eyes wide. One moment passed and she coughed. Oh right.

"Besides," I giggled, twirling. "The view from the balconies is to die for! Who could leave such luxury for something so trivial?"

Sansa's eyes had narrowed on me, her mind ticking over something. I resisted the urge to grimace. I had probably messed up and good impression of me that she had.

"If she were Littlefinger's daughter than that would mean that I was his as well and I can't stomach the thought," Robb replied grimly.

I rolled my eyes. He was so dramatic.

"Lysa and Petyr whisper a lot," Sansa finally said, her eyes distant. The logs in the fireplace crackled. A week ago, there were a few wildlings that came here and left with a sack of gold. Things have been…"

My eyes narrowed on the girl, her brows furrowed. The running and export of the Vale were none of my concern. Even so, a private party with Petyr and Lysa made me uneasy. My mind worked, trying to parcel out the good information from the trash. I rubbed at my temple.

"Something isn't right here," Robb muttered suddenly, his eyes intent on the fire, the flames reflected back into his eyes so it seemed like a lit flame in the ocean. "And I'm afraid that I'll see things when it's too late."

* * *

_Hey guys! Another chapter down. Currently, trying to get through The Starless Sea but I'm a little dense when it comes to symbolism and dreamy kinds of tales so I am st-rug-al-ing, honey. How's the reading going for ya'll?_


	19. Dinner and a Show

I had never really understood it when Corlin had said that his girls ate like they wanted to impress him. Was eating an arena that warranted impressing? How exactly did one go about this matter?

However, watching Lysa Arryn picking at her stew while fawning over Lord Baelish quickly put my confusion to rest. Robb's face held the same kind of strain that I'm sure even my desperately crafted mask couldn't hide.

Not to mention that boy. He simply couldn't be a moment out of Lysa's grip, his face always pulled into this simper that made my skin itch.

"Oh but my dear Robin has just learned his letters!" Lysa exclaimed suddenly, pulling away from feeding the boy a steaming rice stew. Her face tugged into a gruesome masquerade of a smile, nudging her son's arm. "Go on, my dearest. Show them how smart you are."

Beside me, Robb's face had gone slack with boredom, his eyes occasionally lighting with some sort of fury when Lord Baelish's eyes drifted to the considerable mass of cleavage bursting from my pink gown. I had wanted to go more towards the bimbo role tonight so I had borrowed a dress from one of my lady's in waiting. A good choice since Baelish's ferrety little mouth curled into a derisive smirk whenever I opened my mouth.

Even Catelyn was wearing an expression halfway between agony and despair. Even that was somehow better than the blank look that had smoothed over Sansa's face, her knife and fork tapping rhythmically at the plate in front of her. Obviously, ignoring what was right in front of her had become some sort of an art form.

"F, G, two, three…" Robin continued on, gnawing away at his thumb as his mother clapped along with him. I resisted the urge to scream, digging my hands into the thin, gossamer skirt at my thigh until I was able to pinch down on a decent chunk of skin.

In all honesty, a child rarely learned their letters and numbers. If they were living in a hovel on the side of the road. For a boy Robin's age to not fully understand his letters when he was being plumped up for his father's position as Lord of the Vale… It was only a step short of a disgrace. Even my own father with his plethora of children had educated us enough to be decent livestock to sell off to the lords and ladies of the land.

"Oh bravo, my darling!" Lysa cooed, clapping loudly even as Lord Bealish gave a pained smile. "Bravo! I doubt any child is equal to you."

Hiding my sneer, I stuffed a whole slice of chicken into my mouth. There was no response that I could give that would get me further through this horrendous encounter. Beneath the table, one of Robb's hands had begone to toy with the fabric of my skirts, his eyes still glazed. Discreetly, I slapped at his hands, receiving only a slight flick from him in return as he went back to tugging at the material.

"Lady Frey- Oh, my apologies, Your Grace-" The sickly sweet smile that Lord Baelish gave me made it all too clear that the mistake was more like a deliberate jab. "I wondered when you learned your letters and such. Lady Catelyn was whip-smart when she was younger so I know that her boys must have learned it very young."

My eyes narrowed at the question. It was a poorly veiled insult and really - I had no idea how anyone could stomach the man. He thought so highly of his brain but one stumble into the power that Lysa's title could give him and he was a slobbering oaf.

"Our father was rather keen on our education as well, Lord Baelish," Robb rumbled out, his eyes crackling with barely contained malice as his hand curled around my thigh sending an agitating burn through my veins. His hands were so big that it almost reached halfway around, a fact that made me irrationally flustered.

Sansa gave a delicate cough. "My sister and I were the first to learn our words and correspondences actually," she cut in lightly, giving a small smile.

Catelyn smiled, her eyes warming for a moment. "Yes. Eddard was so intent on allowing you the freedom that an education would give…" Her words stumbled off into melancholy silence. The sort of silence that can only be understood by someone who has lost someone that they wanted to spend their lives with.

I barely caught the tilt of Lord Baelish's lips, the disgusting sort of possessiveness that flashed through his eyes as he eyed Catelyn. He would have gobbled her up, I realized. If she had been anywhere near him after Eddard's death, he would have towed her under the waves like a creature of the sea.

Lysa's mouth twisted sourly, something venomous seeping into her eyes as they flicked between the two. Say what you would about the woman but at least she was so obsessive that she had developed almost a sixth sense when it came to Baelish.

"I was one of the first to learn to read among my sisters," I cut in, adding a short giggle to punctuate my point. My eyes cut over to Robb, giving my lashes a bat as he smirked. True, I wanted to look as dumb as possible while I was in front of Lord Baelish but playing myself too into that one role would make my act apparent. "In the Frey household, we learned our words before anything else."

A single pepper grey brow rose, Baelish's eyes narrowing slightly as I beamed across the table at him. "And what does the rest of your studies consist of?"

He was testing me. What a pig. Did he really think that my father was so incompetent that he couldn't even see the benefit of teaching us to read? Robb's shoulders had gone up angrily beside me, a tick in his jaw going off occasionally as he glared across the table at the little man. If he wanted to, he could rip Lord Baelish's throat out. I grinned, delighted by the image.

"My sisters and I were taught the daily household duties of a wife to a large estate." There was that derisive little smirk again. "And my brother was given lessons on - well, I don't particularly know." I gave a ditzy laugh. "Manly things I suppose? Robb darling, what do men learn?"

I widened my eyes as I turned to my husband, his head tipped to the side as his lips twitched.

Lord Baelish gave a small laugh, his eyes crinkling in obvious joy - an astonished sort of joy as if he couldn't particularly believe his good luck. "Oh, I'm sure that you needn't worry your pretty little head about such things, dear," he said on a laugh. Beside me, Robb let out a low growl, so low that I was sure only I could hear it. "Queens rarely need to use their heads in such a way."

My blood boiled. This was exactly what I wanted, I told myself. But a million miles below me, the vines that I had felt at the base of this horrid, little tower flexed, clawing into the stone slabs below and causing a tremor to shiver up to us.

"Oh, dear!" Lysa exclaimed, clutching up her son as he gave a small whimper. The silverware jangled together, clicking against each other nervously. All around us the stones shivered, scraping along each other until even the gathered guards stumbled. Lysa's eyes flicked nervously around. "That's never happened before."

"Rather unsettling," Catelyn murmured as I took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm myself. Beneath me, I felt my vines wither, lashing out against my panicked attempts to calm them. My rage was theirs. My hatred beat through them. And if I wasn't going to handle this than they were.

I shut my eyes, thinking back to the plan. The long term plan. And that was to figure out Baelish's motives before I did anything rash. Or worse, I set in motion something that I couldn't undo. I opened my eyes, watching Catelyn and Sansa whisper to each other across the table, their brows knit in concern. I needed to be careful. This wasn't simply about who was the most powerful in this room. This was about who could think ahead. And right now, I suspected that Lord Baelish had too many cards hidden away for me to go toe to toe with him. No. It was better to wait.

Fully in control now, I settled back, putting on a grin that I hoped made me look light-hearted and empty-headed. Of course, that faltered a bit when I noticed the attentive way that Robb was staring at me, those blue eyes sharp and chilling. And just behind him, I caught the intent gaze of Baelish as well. Which wouldn't do at all.

"Darling," I whined, falling dramatically into Robb's side to his obvious surprise if the way that he jerked was any indication. "That made me feel so sick." I tipped my head up to his, giving him a shy smile. "Can you take me to bed now?"

The ensuing silence was deafening on more levels than one. Across the table, Catelyn and Sansa had stopped their chatter, their faces twisted into identical expressions of horror. And from the glazed expression that had stilled Robb's face, he was equally as shocked. I even saw a little dusting of red color his ears, his adams apple bobbing appealingly. He was so dashingly handsome. Especially when he was embarrassed. The thought flashed across my mind before I could stop it, a sadistic sort of glee making my hands tighten in his collar.

"Oh to be so young again," Lysa said dreamily, her arms clutching Robin to her chest with such force that he let out a squeak. Beside her, Lord Baelish gave a disinterested smile, his interest in me having obviously dimmed. Lysa's spidery little hands reached out to flit along his collar - the gesture reminding me of a man near-drowning. "Why just last night-"

"Yes," Baelish cut her off, tipping his chin in our direction. "Last night we didn't hear you two. After all your boasting we thought we would have some competition."

The very thought made my stomach roll. I hid my resulting gag by turning more into Robb's shoulder, his warmth, and familiar scent a balm against my now throbbing head. It was an absolute delight to know that the footman that had attended us last night had scampered off to Lysa with the information about our nightly habits.

"Odd," was Robb's bland response. "If you'll excuse us…"

I squeaked as he scooped me up, going airborn for a moment as he hefted me into his chest and then carried me toward the doors with a hand under my back and knees. Our exit was accompanied with the cackles of both Lord Baelish and Lysa. Which was a sound that I never wanted to hear at my back ever again.

"Let me down," I hissed as soon as we had rounded the corner, a pair of attendants following at a distance. Robb's gave flicked to me briefly, obviously unswayed. His face showed a lack of strain that was admirable even under my current mood of general aggravation.

"I don't like the idea of people chattering about our bedroom activities." The low, raw words were enough to startle me into submission. Startled, my fingers curled into the leather of his overshirt, scraping along my fingers. I think it said something rather morbid about our surroundings that he had rarely taken off his sturdier clothes, choosing to stay with leather instead of cotton. His eyes were brooding as they stayed on the corridor ahead of us.

"I'm sorry that I opened those doors up to the rest of the Vale," I whispered finally, getting a dark glance from him as he rounded the final corner to our halls. Situated at our doors were some of our own men, finally having gotten a full night's sleep and a good meal. Silently they opened the doors, their heads bowing. "But we needed to know if the servants were instructed to report on our every move."

"Whoever come's by, send them away," Robb said, his words clipped and hard as we came to a stop in the lamplit confines of our room.

"Yes, Your Grace," the two murmured and I glanced around Robb's imposing figure, catching sight of the raised brows as the pair shut the doors softly behind us. Dimly, I realized that I was still in Robb's arms. Beneath me, the muscles in his arms tensed, his hands flexing where they held me.

"I don't like the idea of people thinking about you moaning," he growled, his voice so soft that it doesn't register at first. His eyes swirl from blue to black and just that one glance makes me hot. Swallowing down the sudden dryness in my mouth, I try and squirm from him, only getting my way because he decides to let my legs drop to the ground. But he keeps an arm around my waist, my chest flat against his. His eyes are heavy and dark as he leans closer to me. "Now everyone in this goddamn place is thinking about what you're like in bed - how you sound, how you…"

He doesn't finish, a riot of curls falling into his eyes as he leans closer - close enough for me to reach up and - and kiss him. All I would have to do was lean a little bit closer, go up on my tiptoes. Just like before - I shake my head, trying to shake some sense into myself as well.

"Robb," I whisper but that one word sounds raw and I have to start over as his lids go down, his breath blowing against my lips warmly. "Robb, this isn't-"

"Real?" he snarls, making me flinch as thunder lights his eyes. "Is that what this is for you, Willa? A game? You get to go around, toying with me-"

"Toying-" I splutter, blinking up at him in alarm as his free hand curls around the nape of my neck, dragging me close enough that I can feel the ghost of his lips against mine as he speaks.

His face hardens, something raw and almost feral twist his face. He looks like he's just a step away from pure agony. "Do you know how maddening it is to have your hands all over me one moment and then gone? How much agony that you put me through from one second to the next?"

I blinked, heat curling along my neck. "I-I-"

"Of course you don't," he snarled, his lips dragging along mine in a way that made me ache for more. He was wrong. Having him this close drove me mad. It tested me in ways that I didn't understand. Our first time had been rough and brutal, a way to finish a contract that had been made from the blood of my innocence.

But his kisses, his light touches - they made me ache. They set my very blood on fire. His hands tightened on me, his eyes flickering and then dimming as he stared down at me.

Vulnerability crashed down on me in a sudden, cold flash. How could I tell him all those things? Men didn't marry for love. It was better to keep him far away. It was better to lie.

"I'm sorry if I have hurt your feelings, Robb," I choked out, flinching at the way that his eyes narrowed, his lips tightening. "But this is to protect us. This is all - well, just think of it like a play."

I winced at the word, dread making it impossible to say anything more as let out a long, low growl.

"A play?" he hissed, his eyes flashing sharply.

"Yes?" I said uncertainly. His jaw tightened, his eyes rolling with anger.

"Well, this is about to be the best fucking play you've ever gone to, kitten," he whispered and my mind spun dumbly. What in the Seven did that mean-?

Without another word, Robb lifted me walking me backwards until my back hit the hardwood of the door.

"Robb," I hissed, gasping as he sunk to his knees, his forearm keeping me pressed tightly to the door. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"The Lord and Lady of Arryn want some entertainment tonight, kitten," he drawled, his free hand lifting up my skirts as he gave me a look that was glittering with anger.

"Robb Stark," I snarled, grabbing onto the mass of his curls and yanking until he gave a growl. "You better stop this nonsense."

"The next sound coming out of your mouth better be something closer to a scream," he rumbled and I gasped as I felt his hand skim over the bare flesh of my thigh and then up further.

And then that hand that was keeping me against the door was underneath my thighs, hoisting me up as his bare hands dug into my ass. My skirts were bunched up to my waist, my fingers still tangled into Robb's hair as he kept me against the door, his shoulders pressed me wide open for him.

"Gods, you're even more beautiful than I thought you would be," he growled and his breath rolled over my lips, brushing along the most intimate part of me. Unwanted, I shuddered, my toes curling.

A short scream burst from my throat as Robb's tongue rolled across my slit in one long lick. My head spun, my thighs quivering as my most intimate parts clenched. He wasn't -

My fingers tightened in his hair as his tongue rolled around a something that made my toes curl, sparks zinging through me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even see anymore because what he was doing was… _amazing_. I could feel how wet I was, feel the slick slide of him as he devoured me.

Robb's fingers needed my ass rhythmically as he circled that little spot. Against my sensitive flesh, his stubble was rough, abrasive as he ground against my lips.

"Robb-" I whimpered out brokenly, trying to fight against the sudden feeling that I was sprinting towards the top of a hill with no ability to stop. Fear clenched through me, my pussy clenching around his searching tongue.

He gave a long groan, the sound vibrating across my lips, forcing a scream from me.

"When you cum, I need you to scream, kitten," Robb says and I sob as he pulls away. Was he going to stop? I squirm, yanking on his hair until he gives a low, anguished groan, staring up at me like I'm so much more than I actually am. Like I'm a goddess come to bless him. His cheek rubbed along my thigh, his beard wet with my juice and harsh against my skin. Expression one of agony, he turns, his teeth biting lightly into my thigh until I give a whimper.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, his gaze hot with possessiveness. Desperately, I nod, tugging at his curls. Anything to make the ache go away.

When his tongue drags along my lips again, I see stars. He flattened his tongue, rolling that little button enough to make me go blind. I was a moaning mess by now, incoherent and lost. He was in control. Wasn't he always when it came to my body?

My core began to tingle as my body went tight. Like teetering on the edge of a ledge, I felt something tip, something amazing. Something that made me want to scream and cry and ask for more all at once. And then Robb forced his tongue into my hole and I was falling, screaming as I tripped and tumbled into the middle of something that made my toes curl and a hot blossom of ecstasy bloom right at my core.

Light's popped behind my vision, my head going fuzzy as I slumped, clutching at Robb for support as he gently curled me into his chest. Mindlessly I went, glad for his warmth and his musky scent.

"Gods, you're a fucking goddess," he growled, his hands running over my possessively. "And you taste like fucking candy."

Even in the dazed state that I was in, I had to disagree. If anyone was a God it was Robb. And a dangerous one at that.


	20. Run

Corlin Frey woke with the smell of lilac in his nose and the taste of a woman on his tongue. Lately, that was always what he woke to.

A soft groan greeted him as he rolled, getting out of the musty bed that the Boltons had given him and placing his feet onto the cold stone of the floors. The Dreadfort reminded Corlin of the Twins with its silent halls and quiet misery, almost as if it's walls held nothing more than withered souls, grasping desperately at life.

Sometimes he wondered just how desperately.

"Corlin?" a sleepy voice questioned, soft hands coming out to run along the naked expanse of his back. Lilith? Lily? Something with an L.

It had been two weeks since he had arrived at the Dreadfort with his sister in tow and he still couldn't remember her name. He had met her almost immediately, tumbling into his bed with almost no thought at all. Caution always had been his worst trait. In the womb, Corlin supposed that Willa had taken all of those things with her. She had always been the stronger one, he supposed that in their making, it would be much the same.

Whatever her name was, she had smelled nice. A sign that whoever she had been bedding so far was of a high enough rank to keep her clean.

Corlin snorted, rubbing a hand through the tangled matt of his hair. Briefly, he imagined what his sister would say to the sentiment. _Every time you open your mouth, you make me ashamed, you tramp._ She always had been quite fun to get riled up.

"Corlin, come back to bed," her fingers curled, nails running down his back and over welts from last night's tumble. She had a sadistic streak that gave Corlin paise, something in her eyes making him almost anxious to sleep beside her.

"Hush, my rose," he murmured, getting out of bed quickly to throw on his discarded shirt as goosebumps rose along his exposed skin. "I'll go and get us breakfast."

Brown eyes stared up at him from the mess of sheets, her sharp nose wrinkling as she smiled. "I do love your nicknames."

 _You wouldn't love them so much if you knew the reason why I use them._ He smiled, leaning forward to kiss her. "I'll be back in a moment."

Corlin Frey always had been good when it came to women. What they wanted him to say, how they wanted him to smile. It was like bending into a space that they had created, shrinking down to allow the right amount of softness to grace his words. Or perhaps they wanted someone to pull their hair and slap their ass. Perhaps they wanted nothing at all and a rough night in the sack was enough. Across the years, Corlin had become many people and in the end he wondered if he was still that little boy that had cried in his mother's arms. Was there any of him left?

Corlin left before she could give more than a mumbled protest, taking the halls at a slow pace. He wanted to be alone. Even his nights with - Lydia? - were suffocating. Odd since his sister would always complain when he dragged himself into her room at all hours of the night and day. But that was in a house of snakes when the only safe place had been in his sisters room or nestled on that bench in their abandoned garden. Now she had left him in the viper's nest.

Perhaps a different sort of snakes but one den felt little different than the last.

"Lord Frey," a serving boy with striking eyes bowed, stepping aside as he drew closer to the great hall. Corlin inclined his head. He had seen less and less of the party that he had come with.

Sometimes… sometimes he wondered - Corlin cut that thought off abruptly, picking up his pace as he made his way forward. That was the long nights talking. The nightmares and the fever dreams that had overtaken him when he had come here.

Perhaps it was that dream that kept coming to him night after night. The women with ebony skin and ever-changing eyes _. Run, little, lost boy. Run as fast as your little human feet can take you,_ they would whisper, their voices blending together until his head was filled with voices like the drip of water and the stampede of half-mad horses.

Corlin shook himself, drawing in a long breath of musty air and winter. The Bolton's had been nothing short of gracious to his brother and him, even offering them medicine, a room, and food until Corlin felt fit to travel.

There was nothing-

"Yes but Baelish sends-"

"Don't speak his name!"

Corlin stopped, his whole body going rigid. Without thinking, his body went into action, slipping into the darkest corner he could find, hunkering down in the shadows. What possessed him to stop? Why couldn't he breathe?

Maybe it were those sickening screams that he had thought - just for a moment - but that had been the wind. That had only been the wind.

"Willa Frey is alive," that first voice breathed and Corlin's stomach rolled. Why would they be talking about his twin? Worse, why would they be talking about her like she was supposed to be anything but alive?

"Keep your voice _down_ ," the second voice hissed and Corlin suddenly placed it, something sick and bitter rising up in the back of his throat. That was Lord Bolton's voice.

"Sorry, my lord." Corlin pressed closer to the cold stone as the voices drew closer. "It's just that the attack didn't succeed-"

"Goddammit, Killum," Lord Bolton snarled and Corlin flinched as he heard a slap and the sound of a boot going into flesh. "If you say one more fucking word in this fucking hallway, I'll tie you to a stake and flay you myself."

"Y-yes, my lord," Killum garbled out. "My apologies, my lord."

Corlin's head spun, his heart pounding so painfully in his chest that he didn't trust the now quiet hallways. What did this mean? Corlin's stomach gave another roll, his hands shaking. A piece of something bigger - he only had a small sliver of what was really happening.

But if his sister was in danger than there was no time to think over the bigger picture. Corlin took a quick glance out of his alcove, walking briskly from his hiding place as he took note of the empty hallway.

His mind jumped wildly from one bit of conversation to the next. Willa had always been the smarter one, even his father knew that. At least he knew where Baelish was. And if Littlefinger was sending word about his sister than she was there.

"Corlin?" a sleepy voice yelped as he burst through the door. He blinked. He hadn't remembered that she was here. Violet, Corlin remembered suddenly. Her name was Violet.

"Sorry, rose," he breathed, jogging over to the small desk that was shoved into his room and the caged raven in its cage. Scrambling, he grabbed desperately for his quil and a piece of parchment. "Just need to…"

"What are you doing?" Something about her voice had deepened, becoming silkier.

The words scrawled across the page were messy, shaking. Because all of a sudden he was thinking about that voice in his dreams. _Run, little boy. Run as fast as your little human feet can carry you._ Fumbling, he tied the piece of parchment to the birdsfoot, opening the door. He would have time later to write something longer - neater.

"Corlin…" that voice was closer, just a step behind him.

"Please reach her," he breathed to the bird, letting him loose with a push, those ebony wings a dark stain against the white sky above.

Those nails ran over his back again, digging in with a viciousness that surprised him. "Oh, Corlin. Why did you have to do something so stupid?"


	21. A Game of Truths

"I'll run away," I threaten, jabbing a finger at Robb as he sidles a bit closer. His hair was falling in charming curls across his forehead, his blue eyes crinkling as he held up his hands slowly in mock surrender. "One more step…"

"It - It was wrong of me to - to force myself on you like that, Willa." The words came out grating as if Robb was resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he said them. I clenched my mouth shut, the stone walls cold and sure against my back from the corner I had wiggled into like a child fleeing a spanking. "You are a lady after all and to have - to have taken advantage of you was...wrong."

Advantage? I blushed, remembering the almost blinding pleasure, the need for more. I was still aching, my body almost leaning towards him as if it knew that he could give me something that I wanted. No. _Advantage_ didn't feel like the right word to use for what had just occurred between us. It was a calculated seige on his part. And he had definitely been successful. The bastard.

But - but things like - like what he had just done… They could make me think irrational, confusing things. "What - um, what you just did-" I fumbled, searching desperately for words and only coming up with confusion. What had just happened had felt somehow like a betrayal, like a random event that was so bizarre that it shouldn't have even been in my working mind. And now it was there forever, beating at my heart and worse, my own lust with the insistence of a beggar.

"It… it was wrong of me," Robb gritted out between clenched teeth, his eyes murderous as they roamed around the room, his jaw made of steel. "I will...work to regain your trust, Willa."

I blinked. "You won't promise to never do it again?"

He scoffed. Actually _scoffed_ his brows going up as if I had just asked him whether he would choose to keep the title of king or just pass it on to someone on the street.

I bristled at the sound, my fingers clenching in the material of my now rumpled dress. Rumpled because my _husband_ had decided to hike it up like a barbarian - I cut that train of thought off swiftly, blushing even as an ache started between my thighs. _And you know who can make it go away,_ a traitorous voice whispered as Robb raked a hand through his curls, the muscles of his arms flexing.

And the fact that I was noticing these things now made me even more furious. Furious that he was making me so confused. Furious that he couldn't just keep things as they were - simple and detached. Worse was that he had ripped me down. With one simple act, he had bared me, made me feel defenseless and confused. And suddenly - suddenly I hated him for it.

Because if there was one thing that I wasn't it was weak. How _dare_ he make me feel so bared?

"You-you-" I fumbled for words as his eyes narrowed, his hand still tucked distractingly into his hair. I fumed, my face heating and my chest aching for some stupid, ludicrous reason. I bared my teeth, feeling the rush of power answer as my emotions surged. "You _savage_. What gave you the right -? How dare you-?"

The idea popped into my head like a sudden swift dip in the road, nasty and venomous. "Do you want to know what I really think of you, King of the North, Destroyer of the Lannisters?"

His brows drew down angrily, his mouth curling into a smile that mocked all pretenses at humor. I had once seen a fire so blue, that it looked like a winter sky. I had thought it to be cold until my mouth yanked my fingers away just when I was about to touch it. _The hottest flames burn the bluest, my darling. Do not be fooled._ His eyes were no different. They scorched me to my very soul.

His voice was low and sure, quiet like an animal that was slinking a bit closer. "What do you think, Daughter of Frey? It has been my every waking thought to gleen even a sliver of yours."

The words held a heavy edge of sarcasm beneath their stillness and my nails broke through the skin of my palms at the mocking lilt. Next would come words that I didn't really mean. Words that I could never take back. Words that-

"You're a child," I spat, watching the flames roar to life in his drawn face. "You take what you want and think nothing of the consequences. Do you think I make myself act like a fool all day for your amusement? Do you think I do it for no other reason than to underline the fact that I am _scared_? Because over thirty of my people were killed on the march here and I was almost in their numbers?" Something raw and feral bloomed in my chest, spurring me into near violence. I watched his shoulders tense, those curls that I wanted to sweep away from his ears not moments before falling chaotically into his scorching eyes. I was testing his resolve, I realized as my lips curled, mocking him. "And you come here and converse with your sister as if years have not passed where she has been in the company of vultures. How has she remained alive, Robb Stark? How did Joffrey and the Mad Queen not tear off her pretty little head like they did your father?"

I gasped, slamming a hand over my mouth, immediate shame hitting me with the swiftness of a slap. I hadn't meant to say that. I had never meant to hurt him so utterly. I saw it in the way that his shoulders hunched forward as if he were bracing against a physical blow. An apology jammed in my throat like a piece of stale bread only stopped by my own pride. Because I could tell that he was waiting for an apology. I could see it in the way that his eyes ran over me, cold and burning all at once. But would he really like the one I gave him? The one that said only that I meant to not speak of his father as I did? Because I meant every word before.

His utter devotion to his family drove me mad. If he had fallen in love while he had been at war with a woman… I flinched, thinking of the night before when he had whispered _Talisa_ into the darkness of our shared bed when he had felt the warmth of my touch.

My mouth thinned, my fingers clenching as I forced them away from my lips. No. I would not give him his apology.

Slowly, as if coming alive again from a deep sleep, Robb's shoulders rolled, his fingers unclenching as those eyes ran over me. It didn't feel like it usually did - like a physical caress. It felt dangerous like the distant call of an animal in the night. I gulped as he made his way closer, raising my chin in pure defiance, my spine stiff.

"If we are speaking in the realm of truths tonight, Willa then I suppose I should repay the consideration." I shivered, his breath warm against the shell of my ear as he drew closer, leaning down. A few stray curls tickled my cheeks, mocking me. Just moments before they had been pressed to my inner thigh, curled around my fingers - I shut my eyes, slamming my mind away from that thought. "Headstrong. Frightened. And hard - hard in a way that knowing the touch of real love would curb out of most..."

My breath froze halfway out of my lunges, stuttering like the last howl of rain as he pulled away, those blue flames in his eyes entrancing. He cut me open, flayed me to my very core. Heat burned up my throat as one of his hands moved to cup my chin, assessing.

Assessing and finding me lacking.

"You're like that garden," he whispered, trapping me with his eyes and his words until I felt like a little bird fluttering for an escape. "Cuddled up against the curve between that hellish tower and the sea. Hard for people to grow anything beautiful so eventually they stopped. Or maybe they didn't try at all. And now you stand in this big castle, dressed in silks and free from your cretin of a father and you are unable to love or be loved because no one has ever tried before."

I choke, sudden tears burning at my eyes. Because the words felt true. True like a blade that finds a chink in armor to drive through with a certainty that you know will kill you. His fingers were rough and calloused against my cheek.

"You don't even know how beautiful you are," he whispered, awed and sad all at once. Pain lanced through his cerulean eyes. But in a moment, he closed that emotion off from me, pulling away with a finality that ripped me completely open. "I thought... I thought that if I showed you how much I loved you that you might soften - that you might let me in just a little. I crave your attention. I act like a boy chasing after the stars. It's pathetic. It infuriates me how weak you make me feel. How much I would give you if you only wanted it... But you don't want that. You don't want me." He said the words with such despair that my cheeks burned.

His eyes completely shuttered, his expression going cool, unfeeling. "I will leave you for tonight. My actions were inexcusable. Perhaps someday I will be able to atone."

The words felt hollow and inadequate. Did I want him to remain distant? My mind scrambled as he turned for the doors. No. The answer was no. I wanted him. All of him. And now he was walking away.

"What about Talisa?" I winced even as I was blurting them out, watching as they landed heavily enough that he stopped. My heartbeat rapidly, a rabbit trapped inside a holding pen. Blue eyes cut over to me. "I - you said her name. Once."

He blinked, taking in my stiff shoulders, my hunched, feral figure. "If I told you would you believe me? Or would it only strengthen that image of me that you've created?"

He was giving me a way out, I realized. A way to undo some of the things that had been said this night. _Yes. No. I don't know_. It burned my throat. _Yes, it matters so much that I could scream. Yes, I need to know that you won't be like my father. I need to know that you won't do the things that he does because I was sure that at once point he was just a boy in love with a girl too. There had to be a time of innocence in his life right?_

Tears burned at my eyes, the words that I wanted to say jamming one after another inside of me until I could barely whisper out a breath. I couldn't say. My throat gulped convulsively. I couldn't say a thing. Beneath me, I felt my vines wither in discomfort. Why couldn't I say a single thing?

His smile was a sad, defeated thing. "I thought as much."

And then he left, the door shutting quietly behind him.

"Yes," I breathed, clawing at my throat. But it was too late. He couldn't hear me because he was already gone.


	22. A Visit of Starlight and Flame

Grey Winds fur was warm and comforting at my back when I awoke the next morning, my mind restless and unhappy. My old Septa had told me that sleep would cure all things from the fiercest fever to the restless mind.

"She was wrong," I grumbled, tired and thoroughly unamused by the blatant lie.

"Pardon, my Lady?" a maid buzzed, her face round and less haggard than the other serving woman who was currently pouring pitchers of steaming water into a claw-footed tub.

I blinked, mind working sluggishly as I tried to process what she was trying to ask me. "Only a matter of the heart."

"Oh." The sly glance between the two was enough to translate the fact that Robb and my night time activities hadn't been missed. I hid a grimace, turning into Grey Winds side as he kept a watchful eye on the pair, his face tugging into an expression that I could only assume would have been human dislike. As if he were judging them for pouring too much rose oil into the water.

 _Headstrong. Frightened. And hard -_ The words had echoed in my mind all night, his face a shadow behind them. In my mind, I made up a hundred different battles with him. I called him a fool, a brute who could only think with the edge of his blade. I pushed him. I slapped him when he cut through me with his own words in return. Sometimes I cut deeper in my own imagination, telling him that I could see why the Lannisters tried to decimate his family. I made him turn away from me. I made him tell me that he was going to _Talisa_ for the night.

In some of my frantic imaginings, we didn't fight at all. He didn't leave and we didn't speak a word. Instead, he worshipped my body, kissing along the column of my throat, whispering to me all the things that he loved and hated about me. He told me I was headstrong in a different way, with reverence and anger and lust. He made love to me - not like our first time. No. There was no comparison.

"Your bath is prepared, my lady." I blinked, catching sight of the steaming tub with mountain flowers drifting along the surface. Soap and scrub were placed on a table beside an empty chair. The two maids had amiable smiles on their faces, standing a bit away. "We will wait until you get out to help with-"

"No need," I sighed, slipping from the warmth of the covers and into the chill of the mountain room. Even with the fire roaring in the hearth, the stone walls still held the foul winds outside. "You're dismissed for the morning. I don't require any further assistance."

It would have been near unbearable to have them hovering just by the door, their eyes gleaming like watchful little children. There was the barest flinch of their lips as they left, the smallest tell that revealed what I needed to know. I would need to perform some type of magic today to dispell all of the things that those maids would bring to Lord Baelish. _The Wolf of the North was not in the room… Looked angry… Snapped at us as if…_

"Don't you need to go back to your master?" I murmured to Grey Wind, sinking into the steaming water with a sigh. For a moment, amid the steam and water, my mind drifted. I thought of the days where I had been dying in that tent, of Chaos and Order and my life pact with them. And I thought of Robb. I thought of the scars that I had seen running along his forearms and back, even a small one along his throat.

How many times had he been in that realm between life and death? And how many deals with the devil did he have to make to get out?

Grey Wind gave a sigh, his face showing one of great agony as if his continued vigil on me was coming at great cost to his own sanity.

I frowned. "You could at least pretend that Robb didn't send you."

The look he gave me was enough to underline his overall dislike for spending time with me outside of Robb's company.

"Your time is coming, little witch," a voice whispered, skating along my bare skin like a knife with the gentleness of a mother. I gulped, water splashing out and making Grey Wind snarl as I jerked upright. Suddenly the water ran tepid and then ice cold. Fear beat through me like a living thing. Shivering, I curled in on myself, slinking down into a ball as the sides of the tub began to frost. "You didn't think that I had forgotten about you, did you?"

Did she expect me to respond? Beside me, Grey Wind's hackles raised, his lips pulling back as he let out a jagged growl, his eyes dilating.

"How sad," her voice drawled innocently. "I only meant to scare you a bit into getting your pretty, little head back to the matter of business. But look at yourself. Shivering in the tub like a little - what does your little human male call you? Kitten?"

The tips of my fingers were turning an alarming shade of red that I knew would swiftly give way to frostbite. Move, I urged myself, still curled in the water. But my muscles wouldn't obey. I gritted down, gasping and shivering.

"Instead of trying to master all these wonderful new talents that I've graced your weak, pathetically mortal body with it seems you've had your mind of something more frivolous. More _human_." The last word was spat, rolling through the air like fruit left to rot. A wavering image of gossamer and light blurred in front of my eyes, forming the haunting silhouette of a woman. I squeezed my eyes shut, my brain pounding as she swayed and smeared in front of my eyes.

"Wh-what-" The words halted in my throat as my whole body convulsed beneath the mind-numbing cold. I could barely think. The bitter pain of the chill was sharp and clean, sinking through me with the swiftness of a blade.

"Don't speak." The words were sharp, cutting and grating like the fall of rock of the clash of blades. I didn't open my eyes, squeezing my lids more tightly shut as bile rose in the back of my throat, my teeth clacking together. I could feel her drifting closer, feel the fire and cold in her like beasts that fighting for supremacy. "Now you _listen_. While you and that wolf boy have been dancing around each other, my sister and I have been _chained_ , waiting for _you_ to start your work. Picture my ire to realize that you're stuck atop a slab of rock, entertaining your relatives with some preposterous act. Not even a wiggle of your powers except for that pathetic display the other day. Ridiculous."

Beside me, I heard a scramble of paws, a low, vicious growl as Chaos drifted closer, her nails scraping along the side of the tub. I forced my eyes open, the water becoming chunky with ice as my limbs turned a startling blue. The shimmering ebony of the deepest night mixed with the first fires of sunrise, battered my human eyes. She was something that wasn't supposed to be in the mortal realm and yet here she was, her teeth like diamonds glinting as she hissed down at Grey Wind.

"I always hated your kind," she sneered and I jolted, baring my teeth as she raised a hand and Grey Wind gave a brave snarl in return, his ears flattening.

Teeth chattering, I forced as much anger and resentment into my voice as I could. "Don't you dare hurt him."

Beneath me, I could feel the weak ripple of vines, clawing along stone embarkments, diving through cracks as they tried to reach me. Tried to defend me. I could have cried then, shivering in that tub, facing this goddess as my powers tried desperately to reach me. Powers that I feared. Powers that I had so callously tried to hide.

I flinched back into the tub as the trill of water cries and women playing broke through the room, Chaos' shimmering form curving back as she gave her form over to the cruel crow.

Her eyes were burning embers when she snapped back to me. "Calm yourself, little witch. I won't hurt your lover's pet… though that display of power was rather… _enticing_." A sharp flash of teeth, too leering to be anything but malicious.

And then her head was tilting, her head whipping to the side as if she had heard someone calling her name. My eyes flicked to where Grey Wind hunched, his eyes wide with fear even as he stood crouched beside me, reading to leap if she drifted closer. Silently, I met his gaze, pleading with him to slip away.

"Well…" Chaos turned back to us, smoothing an invisible line in the glistening, burning mass of her dress. "It seems I must be going. Humans can be quite insistent when they want to conquer another." A charred, weather-beaten envelop appeared in her hands, the folds tanned from wear. "But before I go, I'll leave you with a bit of incentive. Since you have dawdled, it appears that the world has moved on without you. Now you have no time."

With that she released the envelope, revealing that there wasn't a seal at the closure. Slowly, it drifted down, swirling until it reached the frozen top of the tub water. The pain had faded, giving way to a surreal numbness.

"A word of advice," came the silky, smoky tune of Chaos voice as the shimmering glow of her faded bit by bit. "Take care of your business here quickly. Your brother is in quite a bit of danger. Oh. And pain." Her giggle burst through the room, bouncing off the walls as my heart burst, my breath punched from my lunges.

"What?!" I exclaimed, fear making me frantically lunge toward where she had been. "What's happening to my brother? Where's my brother?!"

But she was already gone and I gave a shriek of pain as the water suddenly warmed, burning across my frozen limbs. Shaking, half-blind with agony as I grabbed for the now-soaked envelope, tossing it from the water. For a moment, I couldn't do anything more than pant, shaking as my skin tried to readjust.

Futilely, my mind spun around those words. My brother. My brother was in danger. More than danger, he was in pain. An accident? An accident at home? No. Impossible. No one could breach the Twins. My breath seized, my brain running at a million miles a minute as an impossible thought burst through me. Torture. Captured and tortured.

Shaking, I reached over the tub, forcing myself to pull the envelope delicately apart so that the drenched parchment wouldn't rip. Ink smeared across the pages, barely legible.

_Encamped with Boltons. My dreads are that rest of party has been killed. Have not seen another in weeks. Baelish in on attempt to kill you._

And then in smaller, shakier text, smeared across the bottom of the page: _I love you, bird brain._

My insides knotted, dread making me light-headed. A goodbye. Why did that sound like a goodbye? Denial coursed through me. No. Corlin would never- I shivered, scrambling from the tub. If there was one thing that I could depend on it was the grim honesty of Chaos.

There was no time.


End file.
